Obscurity

Obscurity

A Poem by Adela Muresan
"

About pain.

"

 

The song of my soul

echoes trough the gray corridors

of the mind,

as daemons take shape slowly

from the darkness of the

memory.


 

Living. Dying.


 

Their blood gives birth

to thousands of shadows

embracing me in thorns,


 

poisoned by the truth.


 

© 2009 Adela Muresan


Author's Note

Adela Muresan
Be honest pls.

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Featured Review

You talk as if the mind is a cage of some sort, and you are the only light and or key that is trying to escape. Along for the ride is the notion that you can not live with out your mind, so you try to erase the vivid emotions of escape, what life was in the free air, freedom. The demons represent your ill will and or dark intentions to erase these thoughts and vivid shards of memories but again as the light you cant allow it. Coming to the full realization of what is around you and what you have to live though, your eyes dim while looking at the time stained glass, aware that the light you shine will eventually fade and the daemons will have their way.

Posted 15 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

Very good poem. Dark, bleak, but I like it. I like the simplicity of it, it's almost as if 'that's all there is'.
Wonderful write, very stylistic.

Posted 15 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

I thought it was good. Being split up into short stanzas helps make the poem easier to read, and the spaces between stanzas allows the reader to easily soak up the read stanza.
Only one thing, and that's that I think you're looking for the word "dying" in the line "Living. Dyeing."
Good poem =D

Posted 15 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.


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976 Views
12 Reviews
Rating
Shelved in 1 Library
Added on December 27, 2008
Last Updated on January 10, 2009

Author

Adela Muresan
Adela Muresan

About
Heya, I'm a 18 year old chick for Romania, studying first year economics in college. I dance while I put my clothes back on the drawer. I like late night net-surfing , reading and reading and read.. more..

Writing
white white

A Poem by Adela Muresan



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