Creative Splurge

Aah, I felt like writing a strange poem/story/thing, so I did. Think of it as celebrating my return, in a way. :)


My feet feel like walking.

Being chased? Maybe.

Going home? Maybe not.


I guess today is just another 'White Cliff' day; full of calls and regrets and hateful questions. Life and I are antithetical, and we have become a metaphor for despair.


My feet feel like running.

The horizon is just another edge to fall off.

So why, when with a sunset, does it portray a happy ending?

Or is it just a lie in disguise?


The sea air permeates my hollow soul. I can see a lighthouse making it's futile stand against the waves. I try to call out to it, but the wind doesn't deem me fit for words. Why doesn't the lighthouse know it's resistance is in vain?


My feet feel like jumping.

Gravity is a cruel mistress.

Still, though, it has it's uses.

Gravity will let me commit my final act against myself - for everyone else's sake.


I gave in to the Cliffs today, Mummy. I don't know if I'm sorry or not. Please don't follow - you're worth more than I am.


If you need to be consoled,

and even the harsh sun is about to turn away,

just go to the edge of the world,

then Smile, Run, and Never look back.

The End

36 comments about this exercise Feed