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Glinting, steely through the midnight fog
The lights never really go out.
I may as well be the only one in the world.
Sight through idiot boxes,
Glaring through the dim.
Voices without faces
Squalling through the gloom.
I see, unseen.
I feel no sense of power;
Just a reverberating isolation.
©2004-2009 ~torturegoddess
:icontorturegoddess:

Author's Comments

1019 is the radio code for the dispatch office. I wrote this on my own observations of sitting in a dark, monitor-filled room for 8 hours a day, but I showed it to a couple of my coworkers, and they thought it accurate as well.

Comments


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:iconmarionettas:
reverberating isolation......nice last line. ^__^ very poetic, and as this is a poem, that would be...good. nicely done.

--
the kind of love you can carve into a tree / always carved a hole in me
:iconlathe:
This describes with great conotation the isolation of a dark room. I have felt it. I know this fear and loneliness. Good job in describing it.
:iconiyl:
that is very nicely portrayed

--
Call me cute again, I dare you.
:iconjaggy:
There is a light that never goes out.

It's sexy.

--
Guess my life is a compromise.
:iconrbogas:
Voices without faces Excellent discription...

--

People are strange when you're a stranger
:icontorturegoddess:
Thank you. I'd hate to have my poetry called dry and undescriptive, or something similar. Poetic is good.
:icontorturegoddess:
Thanks. Sorry you have the contextual understanding, though.

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October 9, 2004
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