Moarte Pentru a Creativităţii (Death to Creativity)A Poem by FaithyAs a matter of cosmic history, it has always been easier to destroy than to create. - Spock [Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan]You're alone.
Finally you get what you wanted.
Peace and quiet.
No one around.
Yet you feel a presence.
You forget about it and go along your business.
Then you feel the shadows.
You turn around.
Nothing.
You shake the chills and continue.
You start painting.
The colors blend into another.
Hot breath hits your neck.
You turn back around. Nothing but empty space.
You push it to the back of your mind and keep blending and coloring and expressing your emotion.
You feel the words you write.
Tate the colors you see.
You hear the music the world creates.
You experience it.
You live it.
You are so entralled you don't hear us behind you.
Getting closer.
Our foot steps quiet.
Our breathes sharp.
We grab you.
You struggle.
You scream.
It's muffled.
Muffled by meaningless songs, things without beats, and the computer screen.
You are fading.
Blank sheets of paper, pencils, and thoughts are a thing of the past.
So are you.
You are gone.
You are dead.
We killed you.
We had to put you out of your misery.
We can no longer call you Creativity.
And the world goes on and never notices what it's missing.
© 2010 FaithyAuthor's Note
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