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Itch

I feel an itch,
In the pit of my stomach.
In an a way,
It feels like a painful twist,
Reminding me of a world we fight for,
That will never exist.

The itch
It doesn’t seem to go away.
It must be telling me,
That a distance,
Can be ten miles,
But can easily turn into a world.

The itch, I realize,
Is the life we live,
Bothering,
Pestering,
Reminding us,
Of the desolate world,
And how it cannot change.
©2009 ~lguan
:iconlguan:

Author's Comments

Not much of a writer, much less a poet.
But I had this idea for a poem, thought it would work.

did it?

Comments


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:iconcheesefreeak:
dunno if 'itch' is the best word to help convey the same feeling of the rest of the poem, but it does work pretty well.
:thumbsup:
:iconcanadianidiot13:
Always use your idea to the fullest! You did good man. I totally get the itch.

--
"The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous."
:iconlguan:
Thanks :D. Means a lot to me coming from such a talented poet like yourself,

--
Monkey see, monkey do.
:iconlguan:
yeah, I get what you mean by that :P. But actually, this is an unusual way to approach literature when writing, but I actually kind of thought of the title, the idea of an "itch" before actually writing the poem. And the rest came along with it.
And thanks ;D.

--
Monkey see, monkey do.

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June 22
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