Darkness1001
Irl king of Hell
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<span style="font-size:18px;"><span style="color:#ff99cc;"><strong>Pre-reading Notes:</strong></span></span> <span style="color:#ff99ff;"><strong><span style="font-size:18px;">This poem was written more recently, but for a friend. She was questioning her religion, why she believed what she did. She was asking herself why she chose to believe the things she did. She asked herself why her god would torture his creations by letting them see beyond, but never reach it. </span></strong></span><span style="color:#ff99ff;"> </span> </p>
<div style="text-align:center;"><p><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);"><span style="font-size:12px;">The skies are like seas floating around upside down in a bowl, </span></span></span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"> </span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:12px;"><span style="color:#000000;">A bowl that circles our earth. A bowl full with water and those doughy dumplings to act as clouds. Occasionally the blue soup will drip from the dumplings, falling as what we call rain. Rain is our life blood, The life blood that drips from our arms when cut with the sharp rocks of our lies. Natural is what they call it, but they don’t realize our world is encased in two bowls of soup with dumpling clouds that drip blue life blood. Sometimes there will be so much blue soup that it fills the streets and kills us. Sometimes the blue soup won’t fall from the white dumplings and we die. Sometimes it all turns grey and we begin flying like birds off of buildings, cascading down the sides of them like they’re waterfalls. The bowls of soup encase our planet, but they don’t protect us. The bowls of soup trap us here unless we have the means to break through the glass. The worst part is? The worst part is the bowls are clear, so once the soup is gone, we can see beyond our planet. Really though, seeing beyond our planet surrounded by soup is terrible. You ask why? Well, have you ever seen something you wanted, but it was just out of reach? Maybe if you’d had a few more inches you could have grabbed it, or perhaps your fingertips grazed the surface but could not grab hold. Thats what seeing the world beyond our twin soup bowls is like. Agonizing, torturous. What no one understands is that we can’t get out. Some think we can but we’re trapped in these bowls of soup. Whenever the bowls are clear we long for them to fill. When the bowls are full we want them to clear.</span></span></span></p></div>
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</p>
<span style="font-size:18px;"><span style="color:#ff99cc;"><strong>Pre-reading Notes:</strong></span></span> <span style="color:#ff99ff;"><strong><span style="font-size:18px;">This poem was written more recently, but for a friend. She was questioning her religion, why she believed what she did. She was asking herself why she chose to believe the things she did. She asked herself why her god would torture his creations by letting them see beyond, but never reach it. </span></strong></span><span style="color:#ff99ff;"> </span> </p>
<div style="text-align:center;"><p><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);"><span style="font-size:12px;">The skies are like seas floating around upside down in a bowl, </span></span></span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"> </span><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:12px;"><span style="color:#000000;">A bowl that circles our earth. A bowl full with water and those doughy dumplings to act as clouds. Occasionally the blue soup will drip from the dumplings, falling as what we call rain. Rain is our life blood, The life blood that drips from our arms when cut with the sharp rocks of our lies. Natural is what they call it, but they don’t realize our world is encased in two bowls of soup with dumpling clouds that drip blue life blood. Sometimes there will be so much blue soup that it fills the streets and kills us. Sometimes the blue soup won’t fall from the white dumplings and we die. Sometimes it all turns grey and we begin flying like birds off of buildings, cascading down the sides of them like they’re waterfalls. The bowls of soup encase our planet, but they don’t protect us. The bowls of soup trap us here unless we have the means to break through the glass. The worst part is? The worst part is the bowls are clear, so once the soup is gone, we can see beyond our planet. Really though, seeing beyond our planet surrounded by soup is terrible. You ask why? Well, have you ever seen something you wanted, but it was just out of reach? Maybe if you’d had a few more inches you could have grabbed it, or perhaps your fingertips grazed the surface but could not grab hold. Thats what seeing the world beyond our twin soup bowls is like. Agonizing, torturous. What no one understands is that we can’t get out. Some think we can but we’re trapped in these bowls of soup. Whenever the bowls are clear we long for them to fill. When the bowls are full we want them to clear.</span></span></span></p></div>
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