shefsheef (shefsheef) wrote in beggars_shadow,

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One of those Study Hall poems were I really should have been doing work, or something like that, but that concept just can't seem to infiltrate the creative need barriors that have been making me frantic lately. And, the sad thing is, this is nothing near the best that I can produce.

Sometimes things are only what they seem.
When everything is nothing and it is all that you can see.
The shallow, loving screams of those trees and that silent water eats ate your skin and soul and being.

What if the black shadows and grey anger seeps into this lovely existence?
What if the evil and anger and hate...

Silence so loud the pain drips into the solid black sea of happiness that eats at the serenity of what you think you see.

Anger and hatred and loathing...
What does it all mean?
What is the purpose, why, and where will these gates take me?

Shinning irridescence of sunlight and all that it entails.
You believe only what you see,
But things are not always what they seem.
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