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Reflections of the Living Dead (Other) by SomeKindofPoet

Two tired eyes that fail to sleep, Two crying eyes that fail to weep, Two bloodshot eyes that fail to see The worthless lies you sang to me. And here I’m mourned in sad lament For all the days ‘twere wasted spent On fools and jobs and worthless things Like pearl balls and diamond rings. To me is sung the funeral song For such a life which died so long ago. Perhaps one day you’ll learn and see That all you ever did to me Was lead me to a life I hate Where now I’ve died a reprobate, Loving that I’ve hated still While laid to rest upon the hill Where wasted lives are littered there Under headstones worn coarse and bare. Perhaps one day I’ll rise from death And breathe again that precious breath That fills these bags of flesh and blood With life and love and all that should Have been the thing to drive this brain Before it thought that it could change Into a beast to never die No matter how you’d ever try To hurt it, beat it, leave it dead By all the piercing things you said. But here I lay, the living dead, Blood pumping, still, into my head, Where thoughts and hopes and all my dreams Remain entrapped behind my seams.

zodiac 23-May-04/9:16 AM
1) Yes. But not because of me.

2) Who is the narrator of Frankenstein and what is his mission? Don't cheat. God will know.

3) I didn't think any of those things.

4) This one doesn't make any sense at all. And don't tell me what true criticism is.

5) Poemranker is often the subject of my own poetry. To wit,
http://www.poemranker.com/poem-details.jsp?id=79942
http://www.poemranker.com/poem-details.jsp?id=79787
http://www.poemranker.com/poem-details.jsp?id=96636

6) If I don't give "constructive criticism" for this poem, it's because it needs to be entirely erased and rewritten by someone other than yourself on a topic other than the one you've chosen. Sorry. If I believed it was in any wise salvageable I'd be the first to tell you where to add a semicolon or adjust an image, really.

7)




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