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The light spills in through
The old windows of our room
Where the pierrot now mimes
His white face masking all pain

Darkness soaks into the walls
Where intricate designs transform
Into pictures of hatred and lust
Where demons even cower

The strings move the puppets
Slowly around the verandah of
That room where the pierrot now mimes
With black lips and empty eyes

The knife falls to the floor
After cutting his pale wrists
Blood melting into the ground
Where we once were innocent

Seizures move through his
Sickened body
While you smile
At me
©2004-2009 ~dismalhush
:icondismalhush:

Author's Comments

Dance, dance, my sweet Pierrot.

Comments


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:iconhustlerose:
Interesting, cousin. Im still perplexed by it, but yet caught up in its strangly truthful beauty. I was following it quite well until the last two lines. Are you trying to acknowledge, that even with the corruption and pain around you, one smile from the woman you adore can cause all this to be forgotten? Well, i may be way off, but that was my interpretation and kudos to you, that poem was beautiful and its one of my favorites :).
:icondismalhush:
Thank you for the nice comment. A poem's meaning is not always only one thing or another. There are many interpretations various persons could get from it, but I do like yours. It's a different point of view that I hadn't taken when thinking about what I had just wrote. But again, thank you. :)
:iconstripeddandelion:
I love it... it's quite depressing, though.

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July 10, 2004
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