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Literature Text
Days of muted colour.
Dreams of faded hours.
Moments are infinte,
Stretched beyond imagination.
Wishes,
Foolishly spent on downy boyant fantasies,
Are blown into a cerulian past.
Innocent ideals roam wild
Across meadows of viridian contentment.
The butterflies of trust hover anticipantly
Over alabasta petals of deceit.
The confluence of fragility.
As soft hued aspirations
Splinter in the breeze
And whither in the shadows
Of guiled scorn.
The sanguine echoes of a
Personal dance in the clouds are
Meerly cobwebs of a timeless reprieve.
Dreams of faded hours.
Moments are infinte,
Stretched beyond imagination.
Wishes,
Foolishly spent on downy boyant fantasies,
Are blown into a cerulian past.
Innocent ideals roam wild
Across meadows of viridian contentment.
The butterflies of trust hover anticipantly
Over alabasta petals of deceit.
The confluence of fragility.
As soft hued aspirations
Splinter in the breeze
And whither in the shadows
Of guiled scorn.
The sanguine echoes of a
Personal dance in the clouds are
Meerly cobwebs of a timeless reprieve.
This was written in 1991 by an bored and surly teenager with way too much time and a reasonably mediocre vocabulary. 
I thought I'd upload it because I found it this week amongst some documents that I was searching for. This way, if the scrappy piece of paper it was written on get's lost again, at least I'll have it stored for good somewhere I know it won't get lost, lol.
I'm not saying that it's particularly good, or unique, but it's mine.
I thought I'd upload it because I found it this week amongst some documents that I was searching for. This way, if the scrappy piece of paper it was written on get's lost again, at least I'll have it stored for good somewhere I know it won't get lost, lol.
I'm not saying that it's particularly good, or unique, but it's mine.
© 2009 - 2024 Skele-kitty
Comments13
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oh waait that's why i like color