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Rated: E · Poetry · Supernatural · #1933867
This is based on a psychology test I sat recently. Just a poetic version I wrote about it.
look down the winding path
Blue sun rains down on parched grass
still perfect in his eyes.
The beach appears in the distance
No-one came
I am alone.

And I would not want it different.
The world crowds at the neon sickness
cutting themselves over the crying
Black hole that engulfs them over and over and over and
Over. Their black eyes survive through pain, fraud.
"fun"

I smile as I watch this
some in silent satisfaction (who's better)
I lived through pain, as the Earth comes down
on me... But
Lived a good life.

But mostly out of sorrow.
I sit alone on that beach
The fire I made dances in the sand
sand grinds against sand
To make crystal clear
glass.
it vomits over the sand
and water. Connecting them to
thee.

No one came.
They are dead.
To me.
To Themselves
dancing in the Twlight of
bliss and care
that corrupted them long ago.

I saw the sea turn to glass
it came from the other side
It came swimming
Thrashing about through the black, burned
water. Making it still.
No more.
No more of this courrpted city I said
As I threw a hoodie on.
I couldn't see the colour. All light has died where I am
But I can see sun, peeking through
Saying hello, as I run over the glass
The darkness tries to stop me.
I needed out...
And I succeeded.

As I saw himher
I wondered who they were
My brain lured on
As answers flowed like a new spring through
my head.
I called out to himher
Shouting in newtonuge
Remarkably.
heshe understands me
A first

We sit by the fire
Watching the city choke
We both had the same question

Why
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