To the displeasure of my publisher, I've posted another poem of mine that was only to be published in my soon to be publication, since a lot of people responded so ... I was humbled. I've decided to do as you say: post another poem I've spent some time on. Apparitions of a Dying Dream, it's on my page.
This is a message I left in my poem, The Death of Dawn, and I wrote a message for everyone who took the time to read that long ass poem:
All of you people, you're people, you're not a ghost behind a keyboard never known obscured by alias and anonymity, and that's why I write. For breathing, feeling, people who've taken to this sight as an island, some sort of Alexandria, and between the cracks so many of us fall into obscurity. The fact that I have not, that people seem to enjoy it, or lie about enjoying it just to make me feel better is just as touching, that's the only reason I haven't slipped through. You're the reason.
Bad stuff I'm guessing?... Well you probably had a better day than me. I've been sitting at my nana and papa's house watching Degrassi since 11:30 am my time.
I had to stay at my grandparents house because they are sellings stuff and needed someone there if someone decided to buy that stuff. Apparently my mom thinks I [who is turning 19 is December] has nothing better too do.
That's another poem I "spent some time on." Actually, I've never spent so much time on one poem in my life.