Post by nim on Jan 25, 2006 13:49:29 GMT -5
Shadowfox, I can't see your first picture 
Here's mine ... done with a little help from a friend. It's name is 'Serenity'.
Give me your sallow sky; the sky that’s scarred and ruptured by the angry turbulence. Give me the sky, the one that sags on your horizon, casting down foul, flickering light on the misshapen communities that cling to the ravaged earth.
Give me your stricken bones; the bones that are forced out of place by months of abrasiveness and antagonism. Give me the bones that creak under the weight of veiled personality and uncanny secrets and tremble beneath translucent skin.
Give me yourself; the pressure of existing simply for the entertainment of others. Give me thesoftly-cradled sense of being and belonging, that’s been bruised and battered and bent a thousand times by the overwhelming hopelessness that haunts you to the point of hysteria.
Give me your empty, stormy sky and I’ll fix it; I’ll fill your sky with bursts of incandescence, pinpricks of light so bright that they’ll warm your fragile, fluttering skin, and bring the light back to your eyes.
Give me your twisted, bitter bones and I’ll fix them; I’ll smooth out your spine and rub away your darkened faults, peeling back the dead, decaying layers of toughened skin, peeling away the mask to reveal wasteful ebony contours.
Give me that which you covet the most and I’ll fix it; I’ll hold you gently and rock you to a slow and tranquil sleep in my arms, whispering a butterfly’s words of comfort as you flutter to the darkest, deepest, stretches of Serenity.
Here's mine ... done with a little help from a friend. It's name is 'Serenity'.
Give me your sallow sky; the sky that’s scarred and ruptured by the angry turbulence. Give me the sky, the one that sags on your horizon, casting down foul, flickering light on the misshapen communities that cling to the ravaged earth.
Give me your stricken bones; the bones that are forced out of place by months of abrasiveness and antagonism. Give me the bones that creak under the weight of veiled personality and uncanny secrets and tremble beneath translucent skin.
Give me yourself; the pressure of existing simply for the entertainment of others. Give me thesoftly-cradled sense of being and belonging, that’s been bruised and battered and bent a thousand times by the overwhelming hopelessness that haunts you to the point of hysteria.
*
Give me your empty, stormy sky and I’ll fix it; I’ll fill your sky with bursts of incandescence, pinpricks of light so bright that they’ll warm your fragile, fluttering skin, and bring the light back to your eyes.
Give me your twisted, bitter bones and I’ll fix them; I’ll smooth out your spine and rub away your darkened faults, peeling back the dead, decaying layers of toughened skin, peeling away the mask to reveal wasteful ebony contours.
Give me that which you covet the most and I’ll fix it; I’ll hold you gently and rock you to a slow and tranquil sleep in my arms, whispering a butterfly’s words of comfort as you flutter to the darkest, deepest, stretches of Serenity.
now I can say that I prefer the second one; it seems the shading is more pronounced