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                    The Black Room

            I am lost in the labyrinth of life,
                wandering around, wondering about
                    the paths that I have taken.
            My timetable mocks me, tells me I should be,
                pure and true, in the light of the White Room.

            I ask directions from a passing wight
                but they lead me into another dead end
                    and I am yet further from the truth.

            I am looking for something I cannot find
            I am looking for something I cannot see
            I am feeling for something I cannot touch
            I am being for something but not for me

            Pictures line the corridor walls,
                drawn faces of those who choose to be…
                    …but I am drawn elsewhere…

            I am pulled by an unknown force,
                past pretty portals, enticing entrances
                along a long one way passage
            to a dark glow in a bright black mirror.
            I touch the surface and my hand is engulfed
                like a pebble dropped in oozing oil

            And I step through, enlightened by darkness-
                I feel at home, I feel alive, I feel.

            Just show me where the door is…
                …The Black Room is calling.

◄ Splitting

Comments

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Jeff Dawson

Thu 5th Feb 2009 20:25

Hi Tony, this engrossed me, really enjoyed reading. I can't make my mind up about the indented text but it kind of makes it look more like a letter, which is fair enough! Jeff

Melissa R. Mendelson

Thu 25th Dec 2008 18:53

I really can relate to this piece. It is a reflection of moments of my own life. Thank you for posting it. :)

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winston plowes

Thu 18th Dec 2008 22:14

Hi again... Also wanted to say that the photo adds to the emotion of the poem. the expression is perfect. winston

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winston plowes

Thu 18th Dec 2008 22:13

Hi again Tony,

Thinking about this poem... could it be made into a short film? Well only by lots of cgi and lots of £ and even then some poeple would say "it's not like I imagined"
This is the power you have, when you write the words. Its grim in a way ... yes. but I like grim sometimes.
Winston

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clarissa mckone

Thu 18th Dec 2008 05:12

Hi Tony, nice poem, song like.

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