This really isn't a poem either. (well, kind of) -- ~ thank you for suporting local arts ~

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Subject: This really isn't a poem either. (well, kind of)

Author:
Loryn

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Date Posted: 13:06:34 04/28/05 Thu

I'm sitting at an iMac in White-trash-land,
The keys click a monotanous rhythm.
Click, clack, click, clack.
Each mild cacaphonous noise grates my philosophy in my ear.

I do not write my feelings on Livejournal,
Nor do I consult Xanga when I have woes.
I never, ever write poetry,
Especially online- God knows.

But today I thought I would be EMO.
But to tell you the truth, I'm not all that sad.
I could write poems of razorblades and their goodness,
And how I could't let death pass me by,
But in the long-run, that would be a lie.

I spent my day today with children of all kinds.
I saw what they were, and where they were from,
And decided my life could be like theirs:
Both of my parents could be dead, and I could be living with DCF,
Or I could have some communicable disease, and headlice to complete my hand-me-down outfit from my obese father's closet.
I realized, however, that although I am despondant,
My life could be worse.

Yes, I am SAD.
I can not deny it.
But I know I will recover.

Every black and white key I punch on this machine
Is unnerving as it is healing.
I have traveled to the underworld today,
I do not intend on returning.
But I know that this journey into this alternate universe
Is but one step in my nomadic life.
As is every person I meet, and every situation I come upon.

I learned something today,
And now I can benefit from it.
I know in my journey I will always discover knew things.
This is my way to inner peace.

I will always see new places, and meet new people.
I am doomed to always be a stranger in a strange land.
I am destined to meet people who will hurt me.
But I will accept this,
And learn from it.

As I type, resolution begins to come clear.
Time for a new beginning.
With each key I press on towards my destiny.
Click, Clack, Click, Clack...

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