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Literature Text
A Drop of Obfuscation; the Spirit it corrupts. 2/2/11
So how does it feel to have your world come crashing down?
How does it feel to have all of darkness surround?
A drop of obfuscation begins to run amuck.
It blinds my very eyesight and my very senses are dulled.
There was a place above the heavens where my hope could grow and thrive.
It was a place where my feelings of ecstasy would swell up when the sun would shine.
The stratosphere began to collapse and the clouds began to separate.
I fell down to the underworld and there was no one there to catch my fall.
Why does it feel like no one can save me?
Why does it feel like I can't be freed?
Are there modifications to be made?
Have unchangeable limitations been put in place?
My body is a battleground and my eyes can't help but look.
They want the war to be over but this is something I am presently unable to change.
My world is my body, this vessel is all I've known.
The scene of it is changing or has it changed but I've just never known?
I hate that I don't have the answers to fix this work of art.
If I could simply get past this roadblock then my peace could begin to flow.
How could this escape my notice, has my obsequiousness failed to perform?
Have I gazed upon this vessel and perfected it for naught?
This drop of obfuscation begins to permeate through the lake.
The lake that is my spirit, it's aura it corrupts.
It used to shine in colors, reds, blues, and greens.
Now it is so hue less, it emanates a measly grey…
Written by Sanders M. Foulke III
So how does it feel to have your world come crashing down?
How does it feel to have all of darkness surround?
A drop of obfuscation begins to run amuck.
It blinds my very eyesight and my very senses are dulled.
There was a place above the heavens where my hope could grow and thrive.
It was a place where my feelings of ecstasy would swell up when the sun would shine.
The stratosphere began to collapse and the clouds began to separate.
I fell down to the underworld and there was no one there to catch my fall.
Why does it feel like no one can save me?
Why does it feel like I can't be freed?
Are there modifications to be made?
Have unchangeable limitations been put in place?
My body is a battleground and my eyes can't help but look.
They want the war to be over but this is something I am presently unable to change.
My world is my body, this vessel is all I've known.
The scene of it is changing or has it changed but I've just never known?
I hate that I don't have the answers to fix this work of art.
If I could simply get past this roadblock then my peace could begin to flow.
How could this escape my notice, has my obsequiousness failed to perform?
Have I gazed upon this vessel and perfected it for naught?
This drop of obfuscation begins to permeate through the lake.
The lake that is my spirit, it's aura it corrupts.
It used to shine in colors, reds, blues, and greens.
Now it is so hue less, it emanates a measly grey…
Written by Sanders M. Foulke III
This is a poem I wrote about my depression that is spurred on by my body dismorphic disorder. I hope you guys can understand the meaning behind it and I hope you enjoy it. Please comment!
Comments2
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I've read all your poems and they give off a deep feel, a sense of honesty in your words and truth in your feelings. I hope that you're doing as well as you can.