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I am in the basement like every night, every morning, every day. I am small and scared. The stairs are broken and everything is too huge to climb up out of this room. I am trapped. This basement is not dark, the monsters that reside in it do not seek the shelter of shadows to exist. The monsters live upstairs on their thrones and I am at their mercy. If they decide to feed me then I am forever grateful, but forever treated stupid and clumsy. How dare I make a mess in this dusty terrible basement. At this moment I am sleeping, but not soundly. I am forever in this basement. I look up and imagine the sky and I yearn for it. It does not have to be blue but I unconditionally love it. I have a silly idea to make wings out of boards, the very same kind of boards that the monsters who live upstairs would sometimes use to beat my siblings with. As a tool of pain and hurt couldn't they also be used as a tool for freedom? I tie the boards to my two small arms. It is clunky and embarrassing but I am desperate. I have spent too many years in this basement and now that years have gone by in my waking hours that I have been free from the physical basement, In my mind when I sleep I have spent too many years here. I must leave, I must. I flap as hard as I can, at first it doesn't work but then I get this fuzzy feeling in my head and I begin to float. I flap so hard that the boards fall off and I fly up, leaving that dusty basement forever.
I wake up and realize I've been free for years now.


Your blogs are prose poems, I believe. If so, consider a bit more honing and arrangement. I like them. Below, I just tinkered with this one. Perhaps my tinkering is off, as I do not write prose poems. If you are not doing this purposefully, you should.

Every night, every morning, every day, I am small, the stairs are broken, and everything is too huge for me to climb from this room.
OH haha, thanks, man. They are actually just my dreams. I get really weird High Definition dreams sometimes and they are easy to remember. I didn't realize they somehow became a poem. xD
One of the groups here recently explored exactly what a prose poem is. Look for it. I'm sure someone will help direct you exactly where. Of course, google it.

This is definition I googled. It would suit you quite well. You seem to write naturally in a style that closely mimics it. Consequently, I thought that was your intent. Some are unaware they are actually reading prose poems, as they appear like normal, paragraph prose writing. I think you will love this style. But, it is not as easy as it appears. Study them. Carefully. Hope you find a home there for what you need to say. Best. sas


[FONT=founders_grotesk_textlight]While it lacks the line breaks associated with poetry, the prose poem maintains a poetic quality, often utilizing techniques common to poetry, such as fragmentation, compression, repetition, and rhyme. The prose poem can range in length from a few lines to several pages long, and it may explore a limitless array of styles and subjects.[/FONT]
Sounds interesting. I'll have to look into it. Sounds hella complicated tho haha
The Fragmentation part is ironic because I'm writing a book and Fragment is part of the name lol
All writing (that is good) has complexity. Do not sell yourself short. You naturally write with an element of poetry within your prose. Now learn to write it well. You will never be sorry.
See, The Fragmentation dovetail is an omen. Writing can be the vehicle to change your life. Don't drive a jalopy, though.
Thanks dude. I'll keep that in mind. I've already begun taking some notes on fragmentation, repetition, and compression and that does make sense.

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