GraphiteA Poem by Breezie Kae
I pour my passion into this wispy, white page,
I engrave with this dull graphite blade my heart. But for these graphite sculptures I start to delay: I'm wasting my life on this ostracized art. I bask in misfortune for this dead media, I pay my life's debt for these words I won't share. But still I will sculpt dead words for the meaning of hoping my sculptures will meet those in despair. My eyes burn like cinnamon, holding back tears; I hate to hold on to my doubts and my fears. But I have been spoiled so sickly by words of these miracles, specialties, and rising above. Yet still my curse I'll engrave, never my sculpture I'll save. I'll stay with this wispy, white page.
© 2010 Breezie KaeReviews
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2 Reviews Added on June 16, 2010 Last Updated on June 16, 2010 Author
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