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Insane


Brittn

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“Insane” we call him,

laughing and joking at him.

He runs, every where.

Where to?

Know one really knows.

He just comes and goes.

 

Hes different.

Yes, mentally, but also there is something else.

Hes has a kind of glow,

but he doesn’t see it.

He just runs with his head held low.

 

Hes afraid,

but yet also brave.

Its hard to explain,

but somehow, just looking you could know.

You could see, see his glow.

 

We try so hard to send his mind on idle chases.

But we are the joke to him.

He laughs inside that you can see in his eyes,

but you would never know by his words.

He knows what we, and the would thinks,

but he knows what we don’t.

 

He drowns us out,

scribbling in a little black book.

There is a silent urge,

just to take on quick peek.

Just to take one silent look.

To satisfy this new hunger.

 

Its a small book that he writes in.

No lager than my hand.

There is an old book smell,

like when you walk into a library.

Its pages are old and worn out,

yellow and some even torn out.

Big scribbled words clung to its pages...all unheard.

 

Laughed at and pointed at as I read,

I got into the “insane” kids head.

Troubled he is and insane his words,

but hes still a kid full of hurt.

He writes of death and life,

pain, love, and hate.

To these things we could all relate.

 

His words are obscure clothed in shadows

mysteries unknown; hard to follow.

Truths written in code

all of them unknown.

Their hard to show,

but somehow I know know his glow.

 

Though he is insane,

I know his pain.

I have some of his pain.

We all would know it,

if we would just stop and take a look.

Just one peek into his book.

Into his world.

 

Still, most will laugh.

Most will point and call out.

In this world we run.

Where to?

Know one really knows.

We just come and go.

Am I “insane”?

Are we “Insane”?

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And thus my friend

let worlds flow between me and you

Your words touch my heart

and make my eyes flutter across the screen too

 

Your words are epic

Of Virgil's scale

Of Frost's hand

Of Homer's stories

and Beowulf's glories

 

 

but Never let the words stop flowing

between your mind and ours

Those who read your words are touched too much

To leave and tell the tale

 

So lets us be friends

with common ends

and from morning til noon

I think of your tune

 

So.

Here is a ku-dos

As a thank you

for your cool notes.

 

---------------------------------------------

 

 

Was never the best at poems. : / So I kept it short. (Bad and abrupt ending I know.) Seriously though, very nice peom it was thought provoking. Had a good flow imo. Thank you for your time, and good day to you good sir.

Edited by blitzburns4
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Thanks you guies. :D

 

Pag: that was very lovely ^.^

 

blitzburns4: I enjoyed that poem very much. It wasn't bad at all imo. oh and Im a girl.. :P

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Thanks you guies. :D

 

Pag: that was very lovely ^.^

 

blitzburns4: I enjoyed that poem very much. It wasn't bad at all imo. oh and Im a girl.. :P

 

Oh Sorry! I come from Modhalo (A smaller modding community.) where nearly every member is male, so I guess old habits die hard? But still, I apologize.

 

 

 

P.S. Well that was akward!

Edited by blitzburns4
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Thanks you guies. :D

 

Pag: that was very lovely ^.^

 

blitzburns4: I enjoyed that poem very much. It wasn't bad at all imo. oh and Im a girl.. :P

 

Oh Sorry! I come from Modhalo where every member is male, so I guess old habits die hard? But still I apologize.

Edited by blitzburns4
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Thanks you guies. :D

 

Pag: that was very lovely ^.^

 

blitzburns4: I enjoyed that poem very much. It wasn't bad at all imo. oh and Im a girl.. :P

 

Oh Sorry! I come from Modhalo where every member is male, so I guess old habits die hard? But still I apologize.

 

 

hehehe no no its ok. Im used to getting it, I find it only humors me now, instead of offending.

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