MistaChang
08/07/03, 04:59 PM
I just want feedback. I'm tired of writing dark things, this ones just kind of...mysterious for lack of a bettter word? I don't even care for it much so your criticism won't matter but feel free if you need to tell me it's a piece o crap. :rolleyes:
::Hope in those who hold us far from heart, we write a passage to befriend an ending. We wrote our ending and then we wrote our beginning, reversing the trials to divert the protest. The quill floated to the ground without the hint of an influence, the chairs left empty without the hint of our warmth. We've made a mistake, I fear, we've made a mistake. Rip out the pages, we wrote history and this cannot be done, I cannot write what I have not seen, something I can't tell and what I cannot feel, the pages must be torn, the pages must be torn. So I call to you, do me a favor, find my remains and finish our task. The book now ruined, lay aside itself as the book now finished. It must be published, it must be heard... Our story with no end will call to the crowd.::
And the crowd, they will say with breaths of shock and aghast, a tale to be told, one finally, at last...
"The writers disappeared left a mystery discovered, with only the simple task to have it all uncovered. One would read day and night trying find, what us writers have left tangled by one simple bind. Until they scowl at themselves, while they do without clue, tear out the pages, as their reading gives cue."
::Hope in those who hold us far from heart, we write a passage to befriend an ending. We wrote our ending and then we wrote our beginning, reversing the trials to divert the protest. The quill floated to the ground without the hint of an influence, the chairs left empty without the hint of our warmth. We've made a mistake, I fear, we've made a mistake. Rip out the pages, we wrote history and this cannot be done, I cannot write what I have not seen, something I can't tell and what I cannot feel, the pages must be torn, the pages must be torn. So I call to you, do me a favor, find my remains and finish our task. The book now ruined, lay aside itself as the book now finished. It must be published, it must be heard... Our story with no end will call to the crowd.::
And the crowd, they will say with breaths of shock and aghast, a tale to be told, one finally, at last...
"The writers disappeared left a mystery discovered, with only the simple task to have it all uncovered. One would read day and night trying find, what us writers have left tangled by one simple bind. Until they scowl at themselves, while they do without clue, tear out the pages, as their reading gives cue."