My Master's Wrath

My heart pounds as I wait for master's wrath to lash out,
Angrily, whipping my soft flesh until no more remains
His blazing eyes lay upon me, “Dammed, girl…”
The heat of his flaming antagonism overwhelms me,
My fragile form crumples beneath the weight of it,

I am sentenced to the rest of my exile, in my damp stingy bedroom,
Where I must spend eighteen long, tortuous years,
Gazing out my window, weeping upon the thorns below,
I cling to far-away dreams, of someday, love setting me free

This reads more like prose than poetry. Try rewriting it in the form of a story. That would work better than in the form of a poem. if you choose to make it into a prose piece then I suggest continuing it into a longer short story.

If you choose to keep it as a poem, then try to make it flow better.

"The heat of his flaming antagonism overwhelms me,
My fragile form crumples beneath the weight of it, "

this throws off the flow of the first few lines

i suggest going through the poem and eliminating any unneccessary words, this condenses the poem and makes it flow better

My heart pounds as I wait for his anger to lash out,
Angrily, whipping my soft flesh until no more remains
His blazing eyes lay upon me, “Dammed, girl…”
His flaming antagonism overwhelms me,
Causing my fragile form to crumple beneath its weight

The rest of my exile is sentenced to be in my damp stingy bedroom,
Where I continue to spend eighteen long, tortuous years,
Gazing out my window, weeping upon the thorns below,
I cling to far-away dreams, of someday, love setting me free


.....this any better than the first??......

I like it it need some work.
I can see you just quickly did this. Maybe some more description. More pain... More intensity.
Maybe you should space it deferentially here is how I would do it:

My heart pounds as I wait for master's wrath to lash out,
Angrily,
whipping my soft flesh until no more remains
His blazing eyes lay upon me,
“Dammed, girl…”
The heat of his flaming antagonism overwhelms me,
My fragile form crumples beneath the weight of it,

I am sentenced to the rest of my exile,
in my damp stingy bedroom,
Where I must spend eighteen long,
tortuous years,
Gazing out my window, weeping upon the thorns below,
I cling to far-away dreams, of someday,
love setting me free

Over all nice work.
Keep working on it

Genevieve
xxx

It's... good. I like what you're saying, I'm just not sure about how you're saying it.

My heart pounds as I wait for his anger to lash out,
Maybe, My heart pounds
I wait for his anger to lash out
Angrily, whipping my soft flesh until no more remains
His blazing eyes lay upon me, "Dammed, girl"
His flaming antagonism overwhelms me,
Causing my fragile form to crumple beneath its weight

The rest of my exile is sentenced to be in my damp stingy bedroom,
The rest of my exile
Is in my damp, stingy (I'm not sure this word is needed) bedroom
Where I continue to spend eighteen long, tortuous years,
Where I will spend eighteen long years
Gazing out my window, weeping upon the thorns below,
I cling to far-away dreams, of someday, love setting me free

With editing, this could be very good.