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Rated: E · Poetry · Adult · #2208341
A cryptic poem about a made up person, places, and often reality.

Once
by Keaton Foster

*Vignette5* *Vignette5* *Vignette5* *Vignette5* *Vignette5*


Once
I dated
This girl
She was
Of course
The world
She had
No head
No arms
Nor legs
She was
Motionless
Obtuse
Morose
Just gross
Putrid
Diseased
Plant able
Said seed
To be buried
Quite deep
Would she grow
Unknown
But that alone
Is the beauty
And tragedy
Of every idea
Will they bloom
Or will the die
Inside we know
Outside we won’t
But as things go
We do it anyway
Logic is lost
Surreal such reason
We stand for
And by
What we wish
What we believe
No matter the cost
Regardless of price
Once
I knew the truth
Beyond every lie
I understood
Who she was
And why she was
Her name
Pointless
Her identity
Irrelevant
Where is she from
Where did she go
Nowhere
Is the only
Apropos answer
Is she alive
Or is she dead
Does she
Or did she
Ever even exist
To that point
Ill further express
Existence
Very much worthless
And the promise
Of meaning
Is a prison
In which we all
Find ourselves living
Except for her
of course
Life had and has
Other meanings
Once
Let me be blunt
You have no idea
Not a damn clue
As to whom
Or which I speak
This
A lesson of sorts
A simple stroll
Through a wilderness
Of absolute truths
I did not kill her
She was not dead
Because she herself
Was never real
A made up being
A remedy
For my sickness
A blustering
Megalomaniacal
Preponderance
Of “As If’s”
Turned on its head
Kicked in the teeth
Bleeding ideas
As if they are
When in fact
They are not
Once
Not a real place
Point or time
But rather an idea
An ever-evolving grievance
Of indifference…


Once Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2008-2019

© Copyright 2019 Keaton Foster: Know My Hell! (keatonfoster at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2208341