"rebuttled" poems
Unspoken words screaming to those who listen
pleas of the fallen ****** echo through abandoned halls
eroded by millions of years of emptyness
lingering sadness, the tears of Regret
create a damp moist atmosphere
moss absorbs and settles in the dark
growing....conquering for reasons undisclosed
because it can
because it can mercilessly run free unchecked through the empty space
slowly but surely establishing dominance...
the wind lies still
slumbers like an ancient Dragon
away from all the events happening elsewhere
time slows to a near stop
the voices sleep with the wind
and all comes to an end
slowly and surely the passage of time ceases to exist
when all life and energy comes to a complete standstill
it is then a place becomes eternity
it is then the definition of time is rebuttled
Shattered physics as broken shards of glass uncover the lie that lies behind it
time doesn't exist. Merely the speed at which events move.. and when all stops moving immortality can be achieved.
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 2:14 PM UTC
Some days i still love this girl,
I cant stop that ******* whirl;
I have ignored, rebuttled, analysed and rejected,
Any such thought that expelled love suspected,
I have slept, avoided, attacked and awoken,
Yet nothing can succeed in making that entity broken.
It’s not that i love her, in the same way that i did,
but the memory created wont keep on its lid,
and now unequivocally, we are never going to happen,
so i rationalise repeatedly, but the feeling doesn’t lessen.
It changes and it molds;
Reaping the left-behind-cold,
Knowing existing is incorrect,
Knowing it will never actually connect.
Then other days, i dont feel this insurrection.
I cant imagine her even existing in that section.
Yes she is still complicated, wild and free
And in my brain i know we’ll never be,
But it doesn’t disastrously disarm me
Or actually even silence the way i see
Not any more, not so dramatically.
It becomes like a memory,
The happy, the hurt, her heart,
It becomes like a memory,
All that uncertainty at the start
It becomes like a memory,
My refusal to explore the friendship sacrifition
It becomes like a memory,
When I thought I would ever opt into admission
My poetry will keep being written,
The idea came originally from her
And that is something I will take with me,
That’s one thing I know for sure.
I will love her forever,
Not in the same strong way,
but she was my first true love
She’ll be that til the end of my days
Dec 5, 2024
Dec 5, 2024 at 7:29 AM UTC