Tuesday, March 3, 2009


Rating: 4.8
Ashes or butterflies?
Who knows? I’m not sure.
I cant tell the difference anymore.
Cold flesh I cling to,
But it is only my own.
Silent solitude is the only way I’ve ever known.

To be far from the sea,
To be nothing but a wisp in the wind,
Oh no, I’m thinking to much again.

To the sky, a spec.
To the world, unknown.
Things seem much more distant when you are alone.

Breathless, speechless,
My words haven’t had this much weight in so long.
I suppose it’s about time my voice grew more strong.

No longer cast a shadow of nothing,
No longer that placid ghost,
The violent throb in my chest is the power I cherish most.

Feet bare in the dirt,
With nails clawing the ground,
Looking for more of what I already found.

Flies on my face,
Caresses I can’t feel,
What’s real is fake, and fake is real.

Take me down to the cellar,
Pull the wool over my eyes,
No matter what, I can still see the skies.

Hopes? Dreams?
What are they for?
Actions are better, they mean so much more.
Samantha Stough
Amy Marie 14 February 2010
Dreams are very important, by the way. Without them, there would be no actions. Really, it's no crime to think! Interesting poem with catchy interesting questions ;)
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