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Literature Text
Sometimes I think beauty,
Is a concept created for you.
You're the only one that can:
See it,
Feel it,
Harness it.
Eventually you call it art.
Your gift is also your sickness,
Driven mad by time's effect on the world.
You forget the living once they've been captured:
In a poem,
Or a painting.
Look again and again,
At your captives.
The ghosts, to you, aren't the deceased,
But those you've frozen in time.
Is a concept created for you.
You're the only one that can:
See it,
Feel it,
Harness it.
Eventually you call it art.
Your gift is also your sickness,
Driven mad by time's effect on the world.
You forget the living once they've been captured:
In a poem,
Or a painting.
Look again and again,
At your captives.
The ghosts, to you, aren't the deceased,
But those you've frozen in time.
Art just exacerbates nostaliga.
So afraid to forget that we capture it, and live in the moment for years to come. Only the admirer withers as time passes
Hope you like it
So afraid to forget that we capture it, and live in the moment for years to come. Only the admirer withers as time passes
Hope you like it
© 2011 - 2024 Desctrlaltdel
Comments17
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I completely missed this in my inbox for some reason. I guess I haven't been coming on DeviantART as often as I usually do. Stupid school.
I don't exactly know why, but I think this is my favourite poem you've ever written.
"The ghosts, to you, aren't the deceased,
But those you've frozen in time..." Fantastic last words of this poem.
*starts reading it again*
I don't exactly know why, but I think this is my favourite poem you've ever written.
"The ghosts, to you, aren't the deceased,
But those you've frozen in time..." Fantastic last words of this poem.
*starts reading it again*