(Sub)Mission: Failure! (now up to #105)

So I submitted a short story to Glimmertrain press for a contest. Rejected. *sigh* I would take it as a real ego bruising if I actually had an Ego. Thankfully, my friends all made sure I had none of that foolish stuff left.

Going to submit for their next contest and see if I win that one. Law of averages states I got to win one at some point.

After all, the only risk regretted is the one you never take.


....Well, that and that one thing with the stripper. But I won't talk about that sober.

Poetry, I Am Hollow

I am empty, I have no life's joy.
My purpose fades like autumn foy,
I stand alone in the colden night,
I feel alone with endless blight.

The sun brings no hope, no comfort be,
Not warming the soul deep within me.
I wander round the world so vast,
Time of an insect, my life will not last.

I cry and mope and seek some solace,
The world spits back cruel and malice.
No one offers or reaches out to me,
No hope is given, I am left to be.

Time is slow and unfriendly meek,
But it strides ever forward, week by week.
How many hours are empty of life?
How many cry or purpose or strife?

I am passed by like a fade of rain,
begging for hope or scraps of pain.
A touch of tenderness, a kiss of bliss,
I look but don't find in endless mist.

I see delights, and comforts bare,
I can't reach out, all coin is rare.
I curl into bed, my eyes draining despair,
Pushing it out to leave my soul bare.

The place I stay is but empty and silence,
Loud in its way, it trumpets all absence.
Closing my eyes doesn't take it away,
I hear my heart as it fades to gray.

I am dying inside, I know I can feel it
I have nothing inside that can reel it
In the end I am hollow; empty, a shell.
And my life has turned into living hell.