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Post by Cy Skywalker on Sept 23, 2006 18:18:55 GMT -5
Cynicism always reminded me
of poisoned wine in a flawless cup
perhaps necessary, for the passing of a dynasty
or a personal fulfillment gone–sour.
But do the great masses,
or just the few and touched
see poison as alternative to silent watching?
The price of action–
Darkness always reminded me
of those fighting prefightbeauty moments
with sourness
welling up sluggishly
congealing a cut in the soul.
Inspired by a reviewer on FictionPress.net who left a amature writer a lengthy review extolling how terrible the amature's use of formula fantasy plot was. In this review's bio, all it was about was how he hated the formula fantasy has fallen into. I mean I find it boring too, but I'm intrisicly nice enough to not make a big deal of it. I'll tell you what the vaguenesses in this poem means if you ask for specific parts.
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