- last post: 01.01.0001 12:00 AM PDT
Eh, I'll use this thread to post some of my poetry. It's all copyright, so don't think about stealing it.
And I won't share the copyright, considering it contains my real name.
"The Voice"
In the cold, dark void of space,
I am alone, seeing no human face.
I live in walls claustrophobically dense,
In a place I voyaged to long years hence.
Every moment it’s the same white, alloy walls,
Every hour my sanity crawls.
I am alone here, in this place of silent instrumentation,
Alone completely, except for the rare occasion.
There is one equivocator who I know as “him,”
I know him not by face, yet he feels like my kin.
He talks to me in my cold, metal prison,
He tells me of the things I do, and I listen.
He speaks from the world I used to know,
He speaks to me of things he can’t show.
He is the one link to the world I knew before,
Before I was in this prison; the one with no door.
I bide my time for lengths innumerable,
Which find the remaining sanity consumable.
In these infinite expanses of time,
So devoid of voices I fear to use mine.
My cage is filled now with voice,
The voice of “him,” the one with choice;
My retribution had returned in one terrible moment,
I knew he would leave, that being the proponent.
“Michael,” he said, through speakers well hidden,
“How are you today, have you done as I’ve bidden?”
I could not remember, nor bring myself to,
He would leave me again, and that I knew.
“No,” I answered, my voice timid and weak,
He was silent with knowledge of what the guilty did keep.
However, there was no cross argument,
Nothing at all, no affirming acknowledgement.
At last he spoke:
“You will remain entombed longer, so that I may heal.”
I hated him now, in this terrible cell,
I would get my revenge, and lock him in hell.