I,
am an invisible man. restricted, to form, yet free, from pigment, emotion, depth. none can see me. none, can feel me. again and again, I lash out. further and further desperately, trying to grasp, myself. yet, the hand with which I am reaching, Is veiled. through my own, eyes. I, am an invisible, man.
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concealed,
from the world. sheltered, by innocence, by kindness, by purity. yet such a complete destiny, is unattainable. yearning, forever craving prosperity, and peace. in spite of that wish, there are those, standing, in the open. clawing at the ground to grasp, the depth, of their soul. visible, to the world. vulnerable, to guilt, to pain, to impurity. I'd like to dedicate this to a friend.
I never actually knew him. He was a character. In a book. He didn't deserve to die at such a young age. No one deserves to die at 17. He was witty and quick with a response. Careful, dedicated, and loved metaphors. He also loved a girl. You probably don't understand me right now. This is just words to you. Well ficional characters have an impact on lives of everyone who knows them. I am proud to call Augustus Waters one of my friends even though he isn't a real person. But keep in mind... The World Is Not A Wish Granting Factory. Okay? |
All work on this page was created by Middle School & High School students. We hope you enjoy reading their amazing poetry, essays, and stories.
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