Poetry....

The Pineapple Of Doom

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Inactive
Feb 9, 2007
7
Na’ari leaned against a tree. Un-slinging her bag from her shoulder, she took out a pen and her notebook. She groaned, for she had meaning to get around to writing for some time now, but she had been so busy. Na’ari flipped to a clean page, and started to write:

Will I ever be good enough for you…?

I’ve always tried to live up to your expectations
Trying to be the best me that I can be
But it always seems that I’m not good enough
Will I ever be good enough for you…?

I’ve always tried to repay every kindness that you have showered upon me
Helping (albeit a little grumpily) you do what you need to do
But it always seems I’m not good enough
Will I ever be good enough for you…?

I’ve always tried to ace every activity
Pushing myself to the brink of a breakdown and beyond
But it always seems I’m not good enough
Will I ever be good enough for you…?

I’ve always tried to be grateful
Thanking you and giving you loving hugs here and there
But it always seems I’m not good enough
Will I ever be good enough for you…?

I’ve always tried to listen
Trying not to get annoyed or overreact
But it always seems I’m not good enough
Will I ever be good enough for you…?

I’ve always tried to be perfect for you
Trying to make you proud
But it always seems I’m not good enough
Will I ever be good enough for you…?

I’ve always tried to be who you want me to be
Trying as hard as possible to be someone you can brag about
But it always seems I’m not good enough
Will I ever be good enough for you…?

As much as I try, I’m never going to be good enough
Am I?



When she was finished, Na’ari looked critically at the poem. She liked it, but doubted it would be an instant bestseller, like some of her other writings. She really wanted someone to read it, but still knew very few people. She sighed, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.
 
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Fenris hops from tree to tree lazily trying to clear his mind when his foot looses contact and he somehow ends up on the back of his neck with his feet on his hair; his back against the tree in a maelstorm of leaves and dust; he groans but inside he feels the adreneline rush; as the leaves and dust clears he sees a shimmering golden girl with his upside down gaze as he begins to dig his palm into the earth and rotate himself over slowly with the gravel and once again he hears the earth speek of something... 'maybe I really am crazy' he thinks looking at the girl with the notepad a bit confused
 
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