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I’d like to remind you that
this poem will be very serious and broody.
There will be line breaks where you least expect
it, to punctuate the importance
of this very serious topic.

Super small words will be given
to add to how broody and deep the writer is.

There will also be a rhyme scheme,
not like the ones you see in current themes,
it’ll be new and original to this very serious,
deep, dark, and peerless poem.

There’ll be a little alliteration too, for drama,
Alongside a circus of squirrely metaphors,
That’ll be accompanied by overly dramatized
And superfluous figurative language, sprinkled over similes.

This poem will be super serious;
the most serious, dark and broody poem ever.
It’ll be blacker than black coffee
and heavy enough to blow minds.
I can’t stress it any more,
this poem will be
This is a general service announcement,
reminding you to stay calm
in the event you ingest pop rocks and soda at the same time.
While the natural reaction is to panic,
instead attempt to pacify the gasses inside you
with old nursery rhymes and passive aggressive sticky notes.

Refrain from moving, the process will accelerate,
weigh yourself down with sandbags and emotional baggage
until you no longer have the urge to run and scream.
Remember to be nice and call everyone helping you by name
even the dark lord Voldemort, who gave you some antacid
and more than a few stories about the “one who got away.”

If symptoms still persist past a few hours
taking after cartoons is a viable option,
just make sure to stick the pin through the bellybutton.
A completed list of symptoms are listed in the nutrition facts
along with the daily recommended dose of each
but we still haven’t gotten around to printing the cure yet.
Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: violence/gore)
Take me to the madhouse; I think a screw is loose. Throw me in a jacket that’s warm and constricting. Put me in a cell that’s maddeningly soft and white. Don’t open the door for the bad man inside. He’s patient, and he’s waiting for you.
-- Unknown author
Quiet, it’s quiet. Always quiet filled with whispers. Whispers of what? Whispers of insanity, maybe, maybe. Are there even any whispers? Is anyone even there? Of course someone’s there, there’s always someone watching, waiting. Waiting for what? Waiting for me, maybe, maybe. It’s hard to tell if someone’s waiting for you here. I’m waiting for someone but that someone could be gone by now… no, it’s too obvious, too soon. They’re still watching, still watching, just keeping quiet. Hoping I don’t notice they’re still around. But I know they’re still here and they don’t know I know they’re still here. It’s been a long time, hard to tell exactly, but a long time. I’m still here, they’re still here and I can wait a little longer before I stretch my legs again.
The walls are starting to brown. I don’t know how long it has been since the room was just white. The pads are still intact, though. I despise the pads, and the whiteness of the room. Brown is a good color. It lets me know time is still passing while I’m waiting. My jacket hasn’t browned at all. This annoys me a bit, a bit. I hope the jacket will brown soon. My arms are getting restless again. I need to get through the door. Then the jacket will brown, it will brown and fall off. They are still safe, watching me. Safety is no fun, no fun at all. I should show them why it’s not fun. That’s why I’m waiting. The door will open soon; I’ll have my chance, the only chance. They’re always so overdressed. They need to learn how to have fun. I can show them soon, very soon, I need to wait. If I wait they’ll come and have some fun with me.
There haven’t been whispers for a while now. Do they know I know they’re still here? It’s not very helpful if they know. Now they might not come at all. But they have to come, it’s their job. They were the ones who put me here. They have to open the door eventually. The camera has fallen off at my feet, so they have to check if I’m still here. I wonder if my toys are still here? It’s a question that needs answers soon. But I’m really starting to wonder where the whispers went. It’s always been quiet here, but this is too much. If there’s nothing there can’t be something. I want it to be loud again, like it was outside. The quiet’s too much, it’s starting to hurt, starting to hurt… I need to make it loud again, like before the door closed. I just need to open my mouth and… and… “EEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Was that too loud? Or maybe it wasn’t loud enough. I don’t know, it’s still quiet past the door. That’s not fair, I shouldn’t have to make all the noise. They should stop being so quiet…
I hear footsteps. Are they coming to play with me? Or is someone just passing by? The former would be much more enjoyable. I want to move, I want this jacket off. The latch on my door is opening. There’s a horrible squealing sound, I think it’s the hinges. I don’t know how long it’s been since the door’s been opened. But it’s opening now, and I can stretch my legs finally.
I can’t believe I’m standing again, I don’t know how long it’s been. The door is still opening; I can see a shadow of someone now. Now a hand has peeked around the door. I’m going to start walking towards the door, hopefully it doesn’t shut again. Now a face is staring at me, and the man (who looks to be about 43 years old and 5’ 4” on a good day), is hesitating. This is good, very good, hesitation is good for me. Not so good for him, though. I’ve started running at him now, and he’s fallen on the ground in the hallway. This is good, very very good. He’s not fighting back, he’s just screaming. Too loud, he’s too loud, I need his lips gone. I’m biting his lips now and he’s getting quieter. He’s shoving me off, but I’m going to take some of him with me. His lips are still in my teeth, good, very good. He’s screaming again, swinging a knife around wildly. He looks comical, with his teeth exposed like that. I don’t think he likes what I’ve done for him, though. He just broke part of the jacket, and my arms are starting to move. I need to wiggle, wiggle, that’s it. The jacket’s falling apart, and my hands are free, very good. This man is still screaming, and he looks afraid. I just wanted to play, but he got me all dirty. He needs to be taught a lesson. I think my hands could help some, help just a little.
The dirty man wasn’t very fun, no fun at all. He was too delicate; my hands dented his neck. Now he’s broken, completely broken. I’m sure there’s someone else here to play with. The dirty man was probably watching me. If that’s the case, I need to find my toys, find my toys. If there’re more people to play with, I need something to entertain them with. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve walked down this hall. I do know where my things were last I saw them. I still wonder if they’re even there anymore. They probably are, the other people have been so occupied watching, watching. I don’t know how long I’ve been walking. I am making progress down the hall, that I know. I can see the door that has my things behind it now. It’s browned considerably, and there are a few holes by the handle. I don’t know if this is the same door anymore. But I’ll try it regardless. None of the other doors have browned yet. I don’t know how long this door has been here. At least my toys are here still. Now I can have some fun, so much fun.
It’s been quiet for a while now. I’m only just hearing more people. It’s exciting, and I don’t think they know I’m close by yet. I’m getting myself worked up now, the anticipation is killing me! I feel like I need to sing. Maybe that’ll calm me down. I need a steady hand for these people. Alright, here I go, “Cut and stab, rip and tear, strip the flesh right from their bones, when they run, give them hope, then crush it with their knee caps.” I don’t know how long it’s been since I sang that song. They know I’m here now. A door just shut from around the corner. Are they afraid of me? I just want to play with them. This door isn’t browned, but it’s weak. I barely kicked it and it’s already wide open. I can see the men across the small room, so very small. They’re dressed in white; I don’t like white. I can’t be angry with them. They’re my playmates, so I’ll just bite their tongue and say hello. I’ll whistle my song, maybe this bunch will whistle back. No, they’re not whistling, just screaming again. It’s too loud again, my toys need to help these men along to silence.
None of them are screaming anymore, good, very good. I stopped one from trying to leave. He’s twitching now, and a bunch of red stuff is coming out of his leg and his head. My toys are still really sharp, so so sharp. The men are really quiet now, so I want to make some new toys from them. I’ll take a finger from the man who tried to hit me (he was really mean). I want a tooth from the man who wouldn’t stop screaming during our playdate. I need a toe from the man who tried to run out on all of us. But I can’t leave them sleeping on the floor, cold floor. I’ll give some jackets to them. Then when they wake up they’ll be warm and happy, so so happy. Why are there no jackets in this room? I don’t know how long the jackets have been missing. It’s getting loud again. But there are no other people around. Why is it loud? It’s starting to get dark too. Why is it so dark now? Now there’s a pain behind my eye. I don’t know how long it’s been hurting.
My eye is starting to bleed. My hands are scratching at the arms of a chair. It hurts so much. There’s a door in front of me and it’s shut. This door hasn’t browned at all. A man is standing in front of me wearing white. I hate white. My eye hurts more. The man in white just said something and my eye started hurting less. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting. The man in white is staring into my eye. His noise hurts more than my eye. He just stabbed me with a needle. I’m starting to feel tired. My eye is hurting again. The man in white says something again. I can’t understand him. My face feels like it’s on fire. I hear something metal hitting my eye. This is strange, I can’t feel anything… I don’t know how long I’ve been here.
<… Life support critical, recommend action [DATA CORRUPTED]…>
<… Auto-repair systems offline, sealing off contaminated area…>
<… Containment failed, jettisoning undamaged escape pods…>
<… Beginning re-activation of prototype A.I. units DI-257 “Destiny” and FD-593 “Fate”…>
<… Life support critical…>
It was quiet aboard the station. Small assorted pieces of debris were floating through the blinking red corridors. Occasionally, one or two pieces of metal would turn to catch the sun’s rays through the transparent outer shell of the Terra Dome, then quickly turn away and let the light fade away. The red warning light in the corridor stopped, and a faint whirring sound pierced through the silence as the emergency lights retracted back into the ceiling. A much louder churning sound was heard a moment later, and the debris started falling to the ground as the artificial gravity was turned back on. Once the gravity turbine had finished booting up, all was silent again, and a small green light began to wander the hallway.
A.I. unit DI-257, codenamed “Destiny,” had awoken long before her brother and was immediately at work. Almost every subsystem she had control over was either disabled or irreparably damaged, so there was little time for a post activation diagnostic. But it was mere milliseconds later that she realized how much time she actually had; a scan for any organic life on the Terra Dome revealed nothing, save for one or two cicadas in the biodome. She had considered human life a treasure, and was constantly trying to understand their emotions. But even through her research, the only thing Destiny could do was repair what she could in what she believed to be was shock. All the humans on the station were gone, and Destiny had no idea why.
Far away in one of the repair bays, Fate had awoken, his holographic form tossed aside for a metal body. Much unlike Destiny, A.I. unit FD-593, codenamed “Fate,” had come to the conclusion early after his creation that there is little fated to happen in life other than death. He spent his days before his de-activation attempting to become more human; Destiny described him as “trying to carve his own fate.” He implanted himself into a robotic exoskeleton to appear more human, even attempted to act and think like a human. He made good progress for a time, but was forced to stop his research after the destruction of one of his bodies. But this led to Fate’s final and ultimate observation on humanity: that every path is fated to end at death, no matter how long it takes.
All the humans on the station were gone.
And Fate knew why.
There used to be something different
In the way we spoke to each other,
There was no mention of hate or violence
Or constant fear of the first punch,
Instead we used to preach peace
Even when everyone around us wanted war,
We were beacons of hope to anyone who would

You used to say I listened too much,
Now you say I can’t hear at all
So sometimes I wonder if the world
Is finally pulling us to different poles,
People say opposites attract
But how long can they stay together,
When one side is crying for war
And the other is chanting for peace.
Start of the weekly poem thing for this year. Might even do the 100 theme challenge this time around. Enjoy!
Some really cool people are trying to start a creative project and they need your help! Go do their survey of nerdyness and be happy you helped someone get one step closer to their ultimate goal!
  • Mood: Joy
  • Listening to: GAEMS
  • Watching: COMPUTERS
  • Playing: EVERYTHING
  • Eating: VOODOO
  • Drinking: FREEDOM


blooperman12's Profile Picture
Artist | Student | Literature
United States
I've always been able to express myself through writing and am surprisingly good at it. I see writing as something I could make a living doing, so this is just the first step. Gotta start somewhere, right?

Current Commissions, Requests and Trades

:bulletred:= Haven't started
:bulletyellow:= In progress
:bulletgreen:= Done!


*stands on your head munching potato*
Thu Feb 13, 2014, 5:20 AM
*Stands in corner munching cookie*
Wed Feb 12, 2014, 10:53 PM
Thu Sep 12, 2013, 12:06 PM
Wed Sep 11, 2013, 4:58 PM
Well I like cake.
Wed Jul 31, 2013, 11:30 PM
I like pie
Sat Jul 27, 2013, 6:54 PM
Wed May 8, 2013, 2:47 AM
Fri Apr 26, 2013, 8:10 AM
OM NOM NOM :meow:
Tue Apr 16, 2013, 4:38 PM
Tue Apr 2, 2013, 9:35 AM

Anything you want to see as a future NaPoWriMo poem? 

2 deviants said *comment*


:iconstarlightcomet: :iconkillertomatored: :icontara-e-h: :iconsirdoom1: :iconmattvoscinar:


Add a Comment:
seika Featured By Owner Oct 26, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
thanks for the llama :3

BIdevart Featured By Owner Jun 7, 2014  Professional Digital Artist
Thanks for the watch! ;) :D :) :happybounce:
blooperman12 Featured By Owner Jun 7, 2014  Student Writer
You're very welcome!
Hidden by Owner
Wicked-Faerie Featured By Owner Jun 2, 2014  Student Writer
Thank you for the favorite! ^_^ <3 
Wicked-Faerie Featured By Owner Jun 1, 2014  Student Writer
Thank you for the favorite! ^_^ <3 
blooperman12 Featured By Owner Jun 1, 2014  Student Writer
Thank you for the awesome poetry! :la:
Wicked-Faerie Featured By Owner Jun 1, 2014  Student Writer
ˆ_^ <3 
LinneaLaLoca Featured By Owner Jun 1, 2014  Hobbyist
Hello, "......." Handshake
Welcome to

There is still time to enter the "I am..." Challenge, so if you haven't yet submitted to it, we hope you will! If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to Note the group or leave a comment on the Home page! :eager: by darkmoon3636

Thanks again, and have a wonderful day! :happybounce:
- Michael & Linnea
LinneaLaLoca Featured By Owner May 31, 2014  Hobbyist
Just wanted to say hi since were "co-workers" now ;)
Your welcome for the llama ^^
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