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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Other · #1944682
En Mass dump of the SL poetry I've depressed through the years.

I look around, and see echos of what I once was;
Echos of the fun, the joy, the trust, the dedication.

I look around, and see echos of what once was;
Echos of the sorrow, the pain, the distrust, the broken.

I look around, and see echos of what was;
Echos of people, of places, of things, all gone.

I look around, and see echos, and they are all that remain of the past. Of pokémon with tigers, of cats of fur taking over for those of rubber in keeping the peace, of foxes loved and lost and found anew.

The past is to learn from, to take new lessons from the old... all it shows me is pain... so its lesson is to not love.
to not care.
To be alone.

Because alone is safe.



Alone. That is where I am. Have been. Will be.

As every day progresses, another papercut-like wound is inflicted to me, it seems... not the tick of the inevitable clock that works for us all, but another thing that I had had, that has been lost.

Once, there was a knight... he did what he could, stood at his liege's side... for a sliver of time, he took over for his liege when the liege was not in a condition to lead the house... now another has been named First Knight of the house, over this knight's stead...
Once, there was a lynx, wonderful and loving, mated to a wolven dragon. Even beyond the collars binding them to a Master, they were together. Now, the lynx is with another, the drakkolupin ne'er to be found again.

Once, there was a lot of me... some valiant, some lovers, some merely doing what they knew and loved.... ... ... I wonder where they are all now, because they are no longer with me.



You ever have one of those times, where the shining light of hope shined upon you? Probably.

You ever watch someone take that light, pull it from the proverbial sky it shone from, and smash it into the ground, into a thousand pieces? Hopefully not.

As is usual, the shattered light of hope has once again been taken down and the peices scattered to the ends of the earth. And like a sequel RPG where the same heroes are sent time and time again, and are reset to being novices each time they restart, I must grind my way to be able to have the strength to gather the shards once more.



I exist, in many forms and shapes, but I exist. Despite loves found and lost, I exist. Why, then, if I exist, does it seem like I could just vanish, and no one would be any the wiser? Some days, I feel like an NPC in someone else's game of life, where I have a role to play, and when that person is done in my area, I might as well not have ever existed.



I look at friends. At people I know. At the way they go about at least their Second Lives (or how I imagine they go about them). And I feel envious. They have fun (or so I imagine), and enjoy what they do, who they are, and what they are.
Not that I do not have things going for me. I have friends, good ones, who have extended offers and such to me, for land, for somewhere to call my own. And I have used the offers offered.
However, I still feel incomplete, like something isn't whole. Like a music box without a song, like a gamer without a game, like a toy without someone to play with me. Something I see, at least in my mind, that my friends have.


Nearly 8 years in Second Life, and oddly enough, I almost feel disappointed at the small number of poetic downer moments I've had.
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