The Illusionist

I see thing's differently than the world does- even through all of the negativity.

Abandoned streets, shadowed ally ways,
I walk along the puddles- the wind moves the forgotten rain like mini whirlpools.

Slow motion; they're viewing in black and white.

Populated streets; children screeching, parents conversing.
I walk, claustrophobic, gently barging my way through crowds.

Fast pace; I'm viewing real life.

The rain whips my face,
fear screams mutely in the pit of my soul.

They're viewing selectively.

The drizzle is forced to be like children; seen but not heard
Yearning to break free of the pushing and shoving angers me.

The real world is at it's peak, to me.

Muted thuds of my footsteps- every other step is ground; every two steps, a puddle;
My hands shoved within my pockets, my head drawn to my feet.

They're seeing a daring being.

Men's dress shoes hit the ground as earth fights against the weight; women's heels *clink,clonk*; agile and quick.
Hands move with conversation, chins rise arrogantly.

Boisterous being's in my perspective.


Abandoned buildings, vacant strip malls;
Solitary confinement within city limits- my pace quickens.

They're sound in deciding to remain trapped by four walls.

Lively buildings, laundry hung from windows,
Booming businesses, running out of seating- I look around admiring.

I witness smiles, thankful for the surroundings.

Decaying sidewalks, distant sirens; this is, indeed, solitary confinement;
My olive skin the only lasting color in this two-tone town.

They view it as degrading, worthless, cold.

Beautiful, hallow stone lining the pathways, music vibrating the path my feet tread on the ground, horns pierce the air;
Vibrant, color patterns shine brighter than the sun.

I admire warmth, sound, life.

My bleak destination in my peripheral- streets empty;
I step over rocks and shards of broken glass.

The world thinks I'm losing it, living in this lonesome, eerie, city- alone.

I backtrack- mentally- children bombard my sidewalk awaiting the ice cream truck, change shoved in pockets, rebelling against each others silver surface.
The clouds have parted, the sun on the horizon.

I open my eyes- silence and grayness greet me.

The rain has drenched my coat, burning the tip of my nose.

I'm an illusionist- at best.

Author's Note

OK! So, this piece may deem as confusing. Let me just explain it. It's basically a person explaining the surroundings as the world sees them; bland and gloomy. And then explaining the surroundings as she imagines them- beautiful and lively.

Reviews

[TheFemininePad]

I didn't find this confusing. It's obvious that there are two different voices speaking in this poem. The imagery is written well, but the flow of the poem is a little erratic. I didn't feel like the music added to this poem either. I would have chosen a different song personally. I like your use of the font, coloring, and styles. My best suggestion for improvement is a different song maybe.

[Everett DeValle]

WOW! Awesome write!

[Libby]

I like this a lot, it's like the narrator is hopelessly trying to fight the blandness of the world with her imagination. And the description works very well. The coloured font adds an edge that I've not seen elsewhere. c:

[Shiningwolf]

excellent! I can imagine what this person is seeing1

[lovejulez03]

Oh wow, I found that quite intricate and simply beautiful. The way you brought the words to life was great and it was a joy to read. Made my night actually!

[Peter Joseph Swanson]

Marvelous!