I am not stranger to suicide, it is something that i somehow can't escape whether it be in thought or in others. I've had family and friends who killed themselves, my messed up brain forces the thoughts, temptations, and images on me daily, and for some unknown reason i am the person that people like to go to when they want to talk about suicide. I often avoid the subject when i can, but it is hard to push it away when someone is under the temptation and i for some reason am their last reach for help. There are at least five coffins that i could have easily had placed on my conscience in the past few years alone and i thank whatever god there is that i was able to prevent them, but it does take it's toll. Every suicidal that i carry leaves a token of that despair that is like a tattoo that will never go away. Yet for some sick reason, i find that i enjoy that despair that i soak in from them. It is like their negative energy gives me strength despite bringing me down also. It is strange, like i am some sort of sadist.
I wish i could escape suicide, but it always follows me in one form or another. It is like i am a lightning rod for it. I'll never turn away someone who needs help, i know i have a knack for helping those people, but one of my worst fears is to fail someone and have that coffin on my conscience. I despise people,but i am still human nonetheless.
I mention all of this because this poem reminds me of how easy it is for people to forget that someone is still human and not some angel or magician with a magic wand. It is like a curse when a person finds that they have a gift or talent for something because they are then held to a much higher standard and put under a microscope for it. There are no super heroes in this world, only people who care enough to listen or act. People need to understand that, maybe then they wouldn't hesitate to act when the urge arises and resist just being a watcher when some lies dying. I hate people in general, but love individuals and helping them despite the cost to me. A sweet tribute to your friends, keep them close. A coal separated from the mound will never be as bright if at all.
Hello how are you doing today. I was looking through my news feed and the title Enchanted just lured me straight to the reading of this poem as I love the fantasy genre.
Yes, I can take all this literally and the words serve as paint when read creates a nice picture. However, I also see because of this one line where it says, "She says she is only human," makes me think of the underlying line between fantasy and reality. It makes me think of all the normal things in life and try to look at the beauty of it as if you took every day settings and dressed them up in fun fantasy cliches with urban diction. It's like the movie Enchanted.
Well, this felt like little girl dreams and Disneyland nights, but behind all the magic it would seem there is a tale darker than the ink pressed upon the page. Well done.
This took me to a magical place i haven't been in quite a while... i like the way you painted your thoughts, there was very strong imagery throughout... thanks for sharing
Nice this is a really good poem, Really like unicorn and folklore. I like the way you luxuriate the sentences. Definitely leaves a lambent glow in the meaning of your expression. Bravo
This is one of those pieces where it comes so close to the edge of being bad. There were multiple times I internally cringed at the end of a line, fearing the next would be a cliche that I would have to be disappointed in. But I actually really ended up liking this poem by the end of it. You compartmentalize classical fantasy images with modern concepts such as streets, and I really liked that, it was very psychadelic. So from me to you, nice job.
Writer Of The TwentyFirstCentury, confiscated the PsyOps script from the corrupt military radio host that was remotely assaulting me inside the city, which I plan to publish parts of it here, to study.. more..