Thursday, March 31, 2005

the begining

Depraedor
I am a destroyer
I have taken this
Perfect white paper and
ruined it
My pen
To perfection
Has created
Waste
To be burned
Like my body
This will be burned
When it is all said and
Done
All of this is
Meaning less

No
There is poetry
There is the full moon
The kiss of your lover on your back
The pain in “Ugolino and his sons”
The beauty of art
Torment and creation
A glass of wine
All of this and more
Is worth the
Pain
I feel everyday
And it gives me the right
To create
To use these pages
To give the world
More beauty
More pain
More art

Because when its all over
This will be burned to
Ash, y
et
My words
Will live on
In the hearts and
Souls
Of those
I touch

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