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The black, dreary curtains silently flow,
as, ever wearily, the wind continues to blow
in the grand old house which only one has ever been in
the sorrowful Old Man is, to himself, confessing his sins.
Confessing, so pitifuly, in his quiet dark room,
For he knows what, over him, will soon loom.
Confessing of all the hate, and the lies
Confessing of all the people he swatted like flies
Confessing for the smoking he never quite quited.
Confessing most of the love he hid, in fear of it being unrequited.
He wonders if he could have grown old with the one that he loved
He wonders if, with his mother, he could have been less gruff
He wonders what his life could have been
If he had opened his soul and simply just let life in.
But the old man sighs, a sigh of relief
and quietly a tear runs down his cheek.
Perhaps this was not an end, but simply a beginning,
as your body grew frail, and your hair started thinning
The old man sighs, no more hate, no more lies,
And Lies out on his bed, finally ready to die.
- Title: Curtains
- Artist: Jikanu
- Description: i posted this on another forum before, and figured it would be nice to post it here too. i wrote the original concept in class at school when i was bored, once, and then lost the paper, and tried to rewrite it... needless to say, it's not as good as the original, but it's decent, i hope.
- Date: 07/03/2009
- Tags: curtains oldage regret sadness lonliness
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Comments (1 Comments)
- XxBrokenAngel22xX - 07/03/2009
- oh my gosh, this is the best poem i have read on here yet, wonderful job smile almost an edgar allan poe type of feel to it.almost like The Raven type of feel i should say. VERY well written. keep it up.
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