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Poems Portfolio; Feel free to comment!
Topic Started: Saturday, 25. December 2010, 08:52 (279 Views)
Literacy Maniac
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2 Stars
Aamina
I knew a girl who lived a while back
She was my next door neighbour
And she came from Saudi and
Belonged to a faith - she was a Muslim
A loose one, but Muslim still

Aamina, Aamina, where did you go?
Aamina, Aamina, who did you see?
Aamina, Aamina, what did you do?
Or was it your faith
That made them hate you?

We walked to school together
Sometimes I had to convince her to move
Though I wondered if it was a good idea
Our school was chock-a-block with bigots
And they all hated her

Aamina, Aamina, where did you go?
Aamina, Aamina, who did you see?
Aamina, Aamina, what did you do?
Or was it your faith
That made them attack you?

They took ‘initiative’ one day
A group walked up to us and
Started beating her for all they were worth
You could hardly believe the frenzy
She ended the day black and blue

Aamina, Aamina, where did you go?
Aamina, Aamina, who did you see?
Aamina, Aamina, what did you do?
Or was it your faith
That made her murder you?

We walked home, she was in tears
I didn’t try to stop the flow, I would have cried too
Our path took us across the road as usual
A car drove at us, I saw one of the beater’s mothers in it, and it hit us
She was killed, I was injured

Aamina, Aamina, where did you go?
Aamina, Aamina, who did you see?
Aamina, Aamina, what did you do?
Or was it your faith
That made them ignore you?

Police didn’t do anything
Nobody was brought to justice
Much to only my anger
And sometimes I wonder if
It was her faith that was the reason behind it all

Aamina, Aamina, where are you now?
Aamina, Aamina, who do you see?
Aamina, Aamina, what do you do?
Or are you reborn
In the guise of a luckier person than you?

The irony of it all was
Her name was Aamina
And that has a meaning
It comes from amina
Which means “feel safe”.

Aamina, Aamina, where are you now?
Aamina, Aamina, who do you see?
Aamina, Aamina, what do you do?
Or are you reborn
In the guise of a luckier person than you?

What Now?
It’s all over now, and I’m trying to think on
Where do I start this clean-up
Do I get rid of the scars, do I cleanse my mind
Do I just let it fade; maybe it’s a matter of
Sticks and stones and broken bones, or should
I just forget about everything that happened?
Maybe I should say I never went there because
After all, I bear proof of there not being a
More horrible hellhole of a school
Just my luck that I went there, I suppose…
Undecided yet, but certain on what to do in years
In the job or not, I’ll bring it to the eyes of the law
Years old, perhaps, but revenge is sweet
And they can whinge and whine all they want
I’m going to be the death of them.
But the question at the moment is - what now?

The Broken Silent
A silent cry,
A violent night,
A broken scream,
A damned preen.

One thing - one thing or another
He was double trouble
Lived down in the town by the place
Where the crims all went around
Came into school all alone
Peace in class, hell in play
Dodging ‘em all like they were playing tag
Hiding, dodging, running away
All went after him
Uppity girls with their big, fat mouths
Out o’ control boys with their dustbin-esque hands
Nowhere to hide, nowhere to run
Nowhere to find a source of fun
Staff thought they were playing tag

Nothing in his pocket, nowhere to go
So he hit the park and played a little
Big fir tree in a corner o’er there, looked shady
Good cover from the air and the rain
Was comfy too, he slept there
Safer than down in the town where the crims all
Came around, he thought
One had seen him though, his face and tilak
Murder hit his heart - he had to die, he was not white
So, to save from the world from the purge of Indians
The boy was stalked to the park

In the night a cry
People hear, but people think
It’s just a shock
They don’t save the boy

Gruesome fate can be; gruesome was the boy’s
Strangled, stabbed, chopped up, nearly cremated
Drained of blood, hair torn out, throat cut, clothes ripped up
Tilak smeared ‘cross him - and that was all
Same people who ignored his cry screamed, world screamed
Emetic to the many with weak stomachs
When the picture appeared across the globe
Buried days later, thousands of Indians came
Drove other people ‘way, though
Protests sparked, gun and flames all the way
Violent excesses sent him away
Like his own fate was sealed so violently

Indian protests left and right
Racists attacking oh so often
The boy’s Facebook memorial page smeared with racism
His killer convicted, the racism cracked down on
Whiny, up themselves Aussie media accusing Indian media
Of hysteria, the events described as a circus
The ‘oh-we’re-so-perfect-and-you-don’t-exist’ Aussies were accused of denialism
India was thought to have blown it all out of proportion, ignoring their country
But the huge problem was in Aus
Many of us though think we can do no wrong and it’s all everybody else’s fault
Took a while to calm down, but things had changed
Less Indians applying for visas, a drop in students going to study in Aus,
No Bollywood films to be shot in Aus anymore, because of what happened
But some still probably think it doesn’t matter,
And that the Indians deserved it

And on the boy, I’m sad to say
That he saw his parents sitting
Under a different tree, but knew
Them not, he’d have lived otherwise.

One-Way Fight
Thought I’d seen enough of the worst things in the world
Didn’t think I’d have to experience some myself
I still think you’re guilty, no matter what you say
You can’t deny what you did to me anymore, not now you see
How I am today, pale, drawn, cold and emotionless
Drowning in pain that everyone just shrugs off
Not dead yet though, the world ain’t finished with me yet
While you get it all handed to you on silver platters
I slave just to survive, because what I do isn’t easy
Your contact with me not broken, even if we don’t see one another
Still in my head, still making me suffer
Even if you’ve been out of my life a while

It’s a one-way fight, don’t forget it
It’s a one-way fight, don’t ignore it
I come in and never come out
Fighting you, trying to make you see sense
Stop the pain, end this one-way fight

Does anybody care?
Does anybody see?
Does anybody even know?
Pass it off again, that’s the way to go
I’m sure that’s what you say and think
When I come to you once more
The evidence surrounds you, but you don’t care
I did everything wrong, it’s all my fault, isn’t it?
They can’t do any wrong because they’re so perfect, aren’t they?
While I’m a demon from the depths of Hell, brought to bring pain
Is that what you think?
Is that what you say?
Is that why you treat me so badly?
Still in my head, still making me suffer
Even if you’ve been out of my life a while

It’s a one-way fight, don’t forget it
It’s a one-way fight, don’t ignore it
I come in and never come out
Fighting you, trying to make you see sense
Stop the pain, end this one-way fight

Well you never cared, you never showed sympathy
I always left you angry and disappointed
But as long as they kept bullying me
As long as they made me want to die
Everything was alright… alrightalright
Because who would give a darn about me
A hater of sports, a bookworm, a girl with a different opinion?
No - nobody, nobody, all you cared for were the bullies
And after I left, you always wondered
Why I never came to visit
Well, you thought you too were perfect, and that
You’d never done anything wrong
But now I tell you, face to face
You did plenty wrong and that
I left scarred for life
Yet I see you just shrug your shoulders like
It was my own fault I was tormented
And that I never meant that much to you
And to see that hurts me more than it should
Because you’d given me the impression that I was valued too
Still in my head, still making me suffer
Even if you’ve been out of my life a while

It’s a one-way fight, don’t forget it
It’s a one-way fight, don’t ignore it
I come in and never come out
Fighting you, trying to make you see sense
Stop the pain, end this one-way fight

Making Pictures
My easel, my canvas, my palette, and it all
Ready for use, now what should I draw?
The landscape, in all its breath-taking glory?
Or something that tells to those who look deep a story?
I think… a story… what should I tell…
Then I decide… a mirror image of the Earth
Yet changed: one side perfect, the other falling away
Our actions irrevocable, the love of the planet we betray
And the age of Dystopia dawning slowly upon us
Eternal, aroused by humans: it causes more harm
Killing us all and all the flora and fauna, it reigns above all
Aeterna Abyssus, Earth after its fall
I will call it that; to the work I set
We must change before it happens - and I will help us change.

I’m Not a Person
My name is Jacob - that means supplanter
A word with the same meaning would be replacer
I think Jacob’s the best name for me
Rather more than any name like Jack or Lee
Why? I was born to replace my sister, Angela
She had cystic fibrosis, and poor Ma and Pa
Knew she only had so long, and she died at ten
They mourned, but they still wanted someone else in the den
So they had me, and every day I say pictures of my sister
From when I was young I knew they very deeply missed her
And they only seemed to ensure my basic needs were met
Beyond that, I could have nothing, for that I was not set
The walls tumbled down on me
I hoped the time until I was 18 would go by fast, so I could be free
Because in my heart of hearts I knew
That Ma and Pa adored Angela; they scorned me - ptew!
They only took care of me because I was the replacement
Yet even today, I still think - I’m not a person.
I’m just the surrogate.

The Light
You might remember me - I’m Jacob, the neglected boy
My parents ignored me like I was some sort of childish toy
Well, when I got to high school, things were just the same
The name of my sister Angela, long dead, was tied to my name
Everybody else paid me no attention - everybody else but one
An orphan named Vanessa, who had all the bad things to her done
And she seemed to understand better than anyone else around me
Back then, I was depressed, and just about ready to throw myself into the sea
She saved me though, and she got me help me the help I needed
From this our friendship, which became as strong as steel, was seeded
Long-suffering and stubborn, Vanessa convinced me I was someone
That I had a place in the world and worth, and being ignored didn’t make me a no-one
It worked; gradually, oh so gradually, I saw the light
And I fought the emptiness that was me with all my might
I let the light come into me, I let it fill me up and change me wholly
And what happened? When we left high school, I was now someone
No longer a thing, no longer nothing - thanks to Vanessa, I’d regained my humanity.

Dear God Posted Image
Dear God,
I ask for urgent help from you for a little boy
His name’s Andrew, and he is not yet ten
He’s blind, you see, and his schoolmates treat him like a toy
I see him enter his house every day with cuts and bruises
But it’s easy for him to lie when his parents ask; to say he fell
Because he’s blind, but I know the truth because I teach him
I’ve seen him being beaten up and well,
I wish I could punish those who do it, but that’s a lot of kids
To be punished - an injustice, poor Andrew knows
He’s up the creek without a paddle, I hate to say
Yet every chance to tell away he throws
I’m worried God, I fear he might not live, he is so badly hurt
Please God, help him!
Amen.

The Homecoming Queen
Bring it on, bring it on
Don’t you tell me I’m in the wrong
It’s the latest trend and I have to keep up
Got to stay popular with my Mercedes Benz
You must be pretty senseless if you think
I shouldn’t look good on the outside
It’s not the inside that counts, no one
Can see it after all, you’re so stupid
Get away from me, you’re not worthy
Just shut up and go, you little brat.

I hate the Homecoming Queen
Everyone knows she can’t stand me
She wants to be a model and be on the tube
Stupid double trouble, hater of all who hate her
And those who are ugly
Vain, proud, and all about the shell
And this wasn’t the end of it all - how? Well,
Allow me to explain.

She had nice brown hair and a gorgeous complexion
Her eyes were a lovely blue colour
Belinda was gorgeous of course, and she knew it
She wanted to be at the top of our school, and
Despite not being smart, she was cunning
She tricked and lied and used her way into power
And popularity - I saw it all
That’s why I hated her so much
Rough to the mind, smooth to the touch
But no one else saw so.

Belinda loved celeb mags, she was always reading them
Her favourite was The Star’s Way, it showed you how
You could become a star, if you did it a certain way
I didn’t object to it, because after all - hey,
Maybe she’s a budding singer or something in the making
But I had to wonder when she started avoiding the cafeteria
She skipped Home Economics, had no food in her lunch box
She was in my Textiles class though, and she really loved it
Never skipping it, even if she was sick
So I got to have a good spy at her
What I saw was a horror film in the making.

Throw Victoria Beckham and Nicole Richie in a mag
Their emaciated bodies like walking skeletons
Say “This is how you will snag a guy and become a star”
I think that’s what The Star’s Way did
Well, Belinda had low self esteem, so of weight she rid
Herself, to be like these two, to be like the ‘role models’
As the weeks went by, she grew thinner and thinner
Her ribs began to protrude from her shrinking breasts
Her elbow and shoulder bones stuck out of her once smooth joints
And she couldn’t exercise for ten minutes without needing a rest
But nobody could convince her to stop the diet
If they tried, she read them the riot act and paid them out
For some reason, the teachers took no notice, right out
But I had a feeling something would happen.

And it did: some months after the diet began
Belinda fell sick with fatigue, she was rushed to hospital
In the thick of winter, though, she was so much more delicate
Two days passed and she got no better, but she got her silver plate
On the third day, she died, much to everybody else’s surprise
Yet her absence seemed to do something
Nobody at school visibly mourned her; they seemed to now realise
She was a diva, vain and rude
Whoever privately missed her, I do not know
But I know I’m not one of them.

In spite of that, I did her memory a favour years later
When I became an advocate for eating disorders
I spoke out against those who encouraged self starvation
And used Belinda’s memory as an example
Today my quest for acceptance of healthy weight continues
But more fashion shows are not accepting super thin models
It’s working, I think, and I say in my mind to Belinda,
“Wherever you are, perhaps you see your errors,
And perhaps you are grateful for my trying to save our young girls and boys.”

NOTE: This next poem has lines in Latin, so a translator will come in handy if needed.

DISSOLVE
It is breakfast in the hall
At the table, made of marble cold
There sit twelve, five on one side
Five to another, two at the head
One chatting away, another quite pale
Her food lies untouched as she looks
Out the window, at Apollo’s burning domain
Waiting for it to reach the point
Her friends look at her, they are pale too
She looks at them, and they ask of her,
“Does it have to be this way?”
She sighs, and moves an arm from underneath
To show them, they recoil in disgust, and
Now she chooses this moment to respond,
“Yes, it does.”

In her dejection deep doth most finally realise
What drove her to act the way she chose
And now they finally love her, as she had wished
But long given up hope on, and now they
Sympathise, and they forgive her for what she did
Though she cannot forgive herself
Misery and penitence do wound her deep, cutting her fast
Hurt wounds her more, and cheating also
She chose to let it take her life, or to call on Death
And pass before it can do so
Leave for a better place than the one she is in now
In her head she chants
Death come for me and take me with you
Death inflict my revenge for me and so divide them
Death give my hurt back to him and incite his mind

Out the window she looks again
The sun is at the point
She sighs, whispers goodbye, and walks to the hall’s centre
The chat dies down, the others watch curiously
Death now enters the hall, black as a pit, not shining, like a robe
It stops before her and they turn to his Master
“The word,” she requests simply.
Her husband shouts, “No!”, now understanding
But Death’s Master holds up a hand and looks into her
He sees why she wants to die, and visibly cringes in shock
Then he looks at Death and her, and says, “Yes.”
Her husband roars, but Death now speaks,
Nex has adveho pro Hera
And is goes ut it
Dissolve in aurum, Regina of totus of us
Leave vestri vita insquequo vos animadverto opportunus.

And she says to him, “Ego sum promptus.
And then he fades, while she dissolves into gold dust with him
It floats into the air, and then too fades away
While an uproar stirs at the quiet table.

All poems copyright © 2010-2011 Literacy Maniac.
Edited by Literacy Maniac, Saturday, 29. January 2011, 08:19.
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Harket
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asian
One way fight = awesome title font ;D

Also, are you planning on posting the rest of your works here? :)
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Literacy Maniac
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Thanks.

That's all of them. Which other ones are you talking about?

I'm surprised you didn't comment on Dear God's title.
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Harket
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asian
As in, the others that you will write in time to come.
Braille, right? Yea, someone else will comment on that, so i don't really need to. Kinda cool, I guess, but also easy to put in. I comment on one way fight because you use a font hat fits the poem just so well, and that takes something, I guess.
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Warrior Poet
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If you lead me, I will go.
I'm doing something pretty similar to this with my blog, but it also includes my stories. You click on mine, I click on yours, hurrah. Just make sure to post when you add a new poem.
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Sfabulous
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Sleepy Kat
Ha. The Braille was clever. I'd never have thought of that. But on to the poetry.

Your writing has a lot of focus on social issues, more so than other pieces on BW. It's a nice change, and you do it pretty well. But the thing with writing about society's problems is you usually end up including a moral or value somewhere. And that can feel very preachy, and cheap, if it comes across too obviously. You don't really have that problem at the moment, but you should be careful of it anyway. I'd like to read more.
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Literacy Maniac
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Yeah, of course.

I'll post, definitely.

I thought I should include it as a tribute of sorts to blind people... since the poem's about a blind boy...

Thanks.
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Harket
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asian
Sfadow
Sunday, 26. December 2010, 01:13
Ha. The Braille was clever.
Told ya so, LM. ;)

Was the yeah directed at me or WP?
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Literacy Maniac
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It was directed at you.
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Harket
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asian
O I C.

Hmmkay thanks then. :) For answering.
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Literacy Maniac
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I updated.
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Harket
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asian
Heyyy nice. SUPER CLICHE OPENING but it draws me in all the same haha so good work!

Is this real? Also, i just got up so im not gonna give many comment cept that i quite love it.

Only the ending. Threw me off a little. But other then that - its fine. :D
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Literacy Maniac
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Thanks.

No, it isn't. My poems are all fiction.
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Harket
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asian
I thought what now wasnt. Also alot are about matters that really happened.
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Literacy Maniac
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Er... explain that please.
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Harket
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asian
As in, you said they were all fiction. But isnt "What now" non fiction? Also most of your works are more of less non-fiction. The recent ones, anyway. :)
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Literacy Maniac
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Yeah, that one is. If you'd used italic I'd have understood.

No, real social issues, fictional characters.
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Harket
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asian
About the same thing, cause it prolly happened to someone but whatever. In your term, it non fiction, so. :)
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Literacy Maniac
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Yeah, but they might not have had the names I gave them. You only need to change one thing to make it fictional.
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Harket
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asian
True, true. If i may ask - do you AVOID writing non-fictions or do you just find nothing worthy of writing in them?
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Literacy Maniac
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I'm more geared towards fiction.
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Harket
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asian
Hmmkay yea just wanted to know. :)
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Literacy Maniac
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Edited.
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Warrior Poet
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If you lead me, I will go.
Noice. Dissolved is better than your others, I think, and I actually know what it was about too thanks to my Anodyne Sea research. I'm far too tired to do one of my in depth review today, but it was good. No especially good rhythm but no problems. I do like the rest of it.

Except "doth." Why was that there? Doth is pretty much the same as "does." It's fine to be period, but this is not England. There's only one old English type word in the whole poem, so I think it would be much better to replace with "does."
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Literacy Maniac
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Yeah, I find that a bit weird too. I suppose it was for alliteration.
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hephzibah
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you are very talented! like these! :D
‎"Perhaps you have to have a little bit of hope to believe that beauty can be found, to believe that life does come back, that something can surprise you. And maybe they're somehow related. Maybe wonder feeds hope and hope feeds wonder. You see something beautiful and it reminds you that it's possible to see something beautiful."
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Literacy Maniac
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Haha, thanks! :D
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Harket
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asian
Its - its - :o

Good. I think its my favourite of all your works. :)
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Literacy Maniac
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What makes it so good?
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Harket
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asian
Firstly, let me say the title itself made me very, very curious. Good titles generally do.

A very, very nice touch with the latin. It makes the poem a lot more... forbidden, in a way. Memorable. Beautiful - but not in a pretty way.

I really liked the use of the word "Dissolved". Also interesting was how Death's MASTER "sees why she wants to die, and visibly cringes in shock." Being death's master, wouldn't he have seen it all, heard it all, been through it all?

Sweet ending. I can visualise the whole thing, from teh setting and lighting to the characters and even SOUND. And that's what makes a good poem. :)
Birds don't like to fly, they have to fly.
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