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Like a vision she swirls
Fighting her duality

And so often she floats
Above her reality

And curves and curls
In endless pain
And from her heart
All life is drained

And dreams and dreams
Till dreams fade out
And life then seems
like mazes of doubt

Then brakes and brakes
Till pain brakes down
And in her blood
Her soul is drowned

And shivers and shakes
In storms of fear
And gets entrapped
In silenced screams.

So she sleeps and sleeps
And in her sleep creates
A reality from dreams
For a life she hates.


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The following comments are for "On The Psyche Of Unfortunate Women Artists"
by abi

Like a River
Abi, this poem felt like it was a river. I didn't want it to end. I felt so sad, and yet, I felt like I was sitting on the side of river-all alone. And I didn't want the sun to go down, I didn't want it to end. E-mail me soon....pleaaaaaase.....I miss you

( Posted by: Serendipity [Member] On: July 4, 2005 )

how sad
You must have been so sad to write this. It is so lovely. I can't stop reading it over and over and over. You words are a pleasure to read.

( Posted by: Serendipity [Member] On: July 4, 2005 )

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