azza

azza

A Poem by speakingcolors
"

it's meant to sound choppy and unflowing.

"

2:34

i'm still feeling pretty alive

alive and waiting

for God knows what

but here i am

sometimes i can't breathe

but it could just be my mind kicking in

again

i don't feel any dust

at least there's none in my eyes

have you dreamed while still awake

i have

it feels odd

unnerving at best

but i'd try it all over

if i could at least trick myself

but i'm too good for that

too quick to be sure

just when it seems she's in my reach

i jump away

i even have a theme

it plays forever

constantly

no matter how much i jump

but it's never the same

and it's never the same

this place is a dump

constantly

she's so clever

because as i'm about to dream

the sun gets brighter everyday

as bright as the bleach

for which i haven't the cure

sometimes i don't know where i'm at

i don't even know myself

but it's usually then i think of the clover

that little flower i detest

and yet at the same time its a god

not the only one i have

but the only one to forsake

finally the music dies

only to come back with disgust

again

but this time it's a violin

something my mind can breathe

as my thoughts continue to jam

and my eyes begin to cut

i continue waiting

2:35

just a few hours more

© 2008 speakingcolors


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Reviews

wow. this is hard to follow until you tie it back. I believe this to be an accurate rendition of someone's thoughts in the dead of night, whether it be about a special someone, an upcoming exam, or some other stressful event. Nice.

Posted 15 Years Ago


when i was reading this, i seriously was thinking ..."[why-what-wait...? Huh?!]" ... and then 2:35. Clever. It brings everything into perspective.

Posted 16 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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147 Views
2 Reviews
Added on August 23, 2008
Last Updated on August 23, 2008

Author

speakingcolors
speakingcolors

somewhere outside looking in, PA



About
poet/songwriter/author sometimes I feel so much it hurts. i have all these thoughts running through my head, little segments of a whole that i can't see. most of them never get put down in writ.. more..

Writing