What is the Stantonian Association of Interesting People?

My friends, this blog is dedicated to those men and women who go out of their way to be remarkably interesting. In other words, all of those fascinating Stanton students (or, in the rarest of cases, students from other schools) can join this blog to appreciate creative writing developed by us students. I, Braden Beaudreau, the creator of this blog, will post my past, present, and future works on this website, and those who join and comment will get the same opportunities. May all of you live in happiness and peace, and never forget: being interesting is the only way to stand out from the masses.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Broken Within

My eyes have blurred,
Growing and shrinking like a lense out of focus,
Sending deceiving messages to my brain
So that my words are slurred and slain.

I'm scrambling within to avoid the confusion,
To escape the grave grasps of disillusion.
I can't make out the sight
My mind projects inside,
As if there is some hand with
Fingers spread wide,
Laid across the lense, chopping the picture
I am supposed to receive.

I'm crying out for help but my muscles are still.
Impulses normally common cease despite my will.
I'm in a state of pure psychological panic,
Frightfully fearing the worst,
Nursing a most lustful thirst,
That for the life of me I cannot name
With even the slightest clarity.

Help, free me from this cruelty, this
Unjust state of fright and disgust.
I'm looking out from within, longing
To run far from this carbon prison.
I can see you through these small windows,
Yet my heart, my mind, my gut knows
That if I escape, things will never
Return to what they are now,
And, oh how I want to come back
But that nature won't allow.

And what is a risk, anyway,
If you have nothing to lose?
I'm risking everything to rid these blues,
For you and I to flee these shoes,
In which we are regrettably pitted against
Each other in a battle neither of us
Are willing to lose.

You'll never see.
I'll never change.
You are the unstoppable force
And I, the immovable object.
Either we escape the path of the other
In a dangerously narrow encounter,
Or together we ignite a bomb that will
Forever darken the world we together know,
With a brilliant flame turned to a depressed, dull glow.

Will we ever revisit the time of old,
Where you and I were one in the same,
When love was the only story told?

We will not.

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