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bitterness made beautiful: my words like circles; my heart the echo of a distant drum's shudders. an emptiness like strangers: a canvas too forbidding - possibilities unchanced, the air awake with potential. bitterness made beautiful: a stab of agony carved in crystal, a starless night cast in ebony - the catharsis of loveliness; despair's breathtaking imagery. the lonely mountains mourning, the white winter forests of my heart awaiting the april of poetry; the thaw that comes in words. the chrysalis of pain's transformation into wisdom. collections of polished moments line the museum of my memory. so as the blade bites in, I turn my veins into blank pages and my blood into words; so the wound becomes a story, a song, a bitterness made beautiful. the depth of hurt: an ocean beneath whose opal waves I drown the loneliness and sorrow that I, in language, cast. a bitterness made beautiful. |
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the dance; the tribal rite - the drum: thud thud slam pound - the beating of a heart: my heart a drum: thud thud slam what comes I know not, but the pounding rhythm hints of pain. my heart, thud thud slam, warns me to be afraid. reckless tempo; wild dance: all is not as it ought - thud thud, slam oh, something is wrong; I daren't seek the truth - the fire leaps; the drum - thud thud slam - my heart pounds harder, terror rising. this dance, an ancient one thud thud slam: I know not what I fear - thud thud slam - my heart, the drum, is wiser. thud thud slam. |