Ramblings Of A Tortuous Madman

Saint Sinner

Staring at the blank white canvas on the computer screen, thinking about what to write to only find myself more lost than ever, alone with the pain and the heartache. There’s no forgiveness for a monster like me, no such thing as a welcoming presence except from the ghosts and the shadows that lurk away from the light that surrounds me.

 

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Getting lost in the white ocean while the pain continues to drill itself into my head deeper while my heart lays dying out of reach. I get to a point in my life sometimes when I don’t know how I am or what I’m feeling, I just feel emotionless, feeling like I’m standing on the coldest piece of land up North and I don’t feel cold nor lost, I'm just one with the white abyss.

 

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I don’t know what’s this, what I’m writing, read it or don’t read it, it doesn’t matter. My fingers are moving, typing in letters forming into words and I’m just sitting here thinking and watching, watching the fingers, my fingers, typing like a madman. Am I mad? Mad as a hatter I am, though this isn't Wonderland and you're not Alice. But even though with that said, I find myself waking up every day, slowly digging my way deeper into the rabbit hole, curiously following the white rabbit.

 

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What do I intend to find along the way? A reason to keep going...

  • Author: Saint Sinner (Offline Offline)
  • Published: December 4th, 2017 02:37
  • Comment from author about the poem: It's just ramblings of a madman, a starving artist, a writer hellbent on killing all of the characters... Why? Because of a mindblock that comes in many forms and it's only mission is to keep people like us from writing, drawing, and creating.. So what do we do, we either fight through the mindblock or we follow it to the end.
  • Category: Reflection
  • Views: 11
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Comments1

  • orchidee

    I know your trouble. You heard me sing! It drove you to this! heehee.



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