The Lie

In twisted words, like a rose,
With a scent so sweet but a thorn,
It moulds itself in the darkest care,
With a purpose no light of stars.
It blackens the tounge like coals,
Hard and dull, it seeks to choke the throat,
Like ash it drys the mouth and spits from the lips.
In twisted words, like a rose,
With a scent so sweet but a thorn,
It moulds itself in the darkest care,
With a purpose no light of stars.

Eh...Let's see....

You started with a simile. That can be good. But it used a rose. That's not necessarily-so-good. Roses are the single most-used items when comparing anything to anything else. They're the staple of cliches. Yes, it seems chivalrous and poetic; but it isn't when you throw it in just out of convenience. The elegance of the petals contrast usefully with the harsh thorns... but that's no excuse to implement overused ideas. Unless you use it in a new and refreshing way... which, to say bluntly, you didn't.

You seemed to throw in literary devices just to force this into poetic form. Art doesn't work that way. There needs to be meaning behind it.

Also, I wasn't a fan of your repetition it seemed like a pointless filler to lengthen the poem and once again, portray a sense of epicness that just isn't there.

However, I liked your description of lies as things that dry the mouth... it was interesting.

Keep writing, I'll keep reading.

~Ed