Creative Writing Hollow.

I dream in color,
An infinite menagerie of tapestry
In which things hold no real form,
Yet always have solidity.

I touch nothing while there,
Keep no real interest in the happening
Yet all the same I struggle to grasp
all that is shared in these trappings.

I fear rejection,
And benefit from the fall
From grace, I tumble down the stairs
In avoidance of your call.

I look out the window
Of shattered and jagged remnants
Where glass and metal had merged,
Willing to pay penance.

I am alone,
Among many who soak in sorrow,
Feeling not the slightest bit upset,
But in fact, rather hollow.

 

Dream.

That is beautiful Chance. You were always the awesome writer. =/

[I accidently put a thread I was posting in this thread. ;D]

 

Thank you, Peachy. I'm glad you think that. :3

 

Ditto here. I can see how much your writing style as improved over the years.