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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 19:32:12 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 108522
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Art Of Realism
[time] => 2005-10-26 19:43:30
[hometext] => The poem is pretty much self explainitory. =) Comments/corrections on form, spelling, and grammar make me smile, but only when they have good reasoning.
[bodytext] => "You're not real." He wrote it on my forehead, in thick red letters. The words dripped with reason, but I couldn't find meaning in them, anywhere. "I am! " I pleaded, but my lips lay shut. There was no spoken dialog, but he heard every word. "I'm more real than anyone you know! " and he just glared. Now, rather than from the reality, scribbled on my face, the reason poured from his eyes. (in place of the tear drops I was searching for.) I left him, staning there, boasting of his realism. At home, I scrubbed at the bold, bright label, painted over everything I once stood for. When it refused to dull, I came to the conclusion that; I was never real. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 184 [topic] => 75 [informant] => eleventoedsloth [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => anguished )
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