Samantha Stough


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.

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Poem Edited: Saturday, March 28, 2009

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Comments about Actions by Samantha Stough

  • Amy MarieAmy Marie (2/14/2010 12:38:00 PM)

    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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