Untitled

Untitled

I.
My fingers are glistening
Wet with tears I've wiped off my fractured heart,
My eyes unable to cry

This incredible sadness I do not yet feel,
Still weighs heavy in my lonely heart
My world of emotions hidden within,
Somehow orders me useless among peers
As I go about my day,
Inanimate and fake like a puppet,
Not knowing why the fragments and shards
Remain beating from this broken heart of mine


II.
The hope of healing is weak inside me
Even as I try to kill it,
Just wanting the misery to end


III.
Great splintering of rocks echoes in my mind
As my bones hit the floor

I try to pick up my broken legs,
Fallen from this long dance, mid-waltz

I strain to regain my footing,
But there is no stable ground before me

I open my frightened and dark eyelids,
But my eyes do not fall upon friendly faces,
And I am instead confronted by lonely grey walls
Only binding me further in my solitude

My skin cries in frustration and energy,
Burning what loveliness was left in the air

Everything around me becomes wretched and black

The metallic taste of blood rises,
As I rip at my chest
Wanting the red hot coals of my heart gone

All thoughts of beauty and love disappear,
As I am slowly stripped of my sanity.


IV.
Beaten, broken, naked here I lie.
Me.





For artists, emotions are just another source of creativity. Enjoy.
~Yoyo

care to comment?

yoha_ahoy wrote:Even as I try to kill it,

Something about this doesn't sound right to me. It sounds very harsh and un-descriptive. I'd suggest wording it differently.

yoha_ahoy wrote:I open my frightened and dark eyelids,
But my eyes do not fall upon friendly faces,
And I am instead confronted by lonely grey walls
Only binding me further in my solitude

This gave me an interesting mental picture. Though frightened and dark kind of contradict each other. Frightened makes me think wide-eyed and innocent, and dark seems the opposite.

yoha_ahoy wrote:The metallic taste of blood rises,
As I rip at my chest
Wanting the red hot coals of my heart gone

That made me think of Davey Jones cutting his heart out for some reason.

Overall I liked this. It gave me a mental picture of what you, or whoever's point of view the poem was being told from, was feeling. Although I didn't get why it was separated into numbered parts. Good job though.

It's good.
I was wondering why you divide it into sections. It kind of breaks up the poem. The ending is good too. If you're going to break it into sections like you did, maybe you should break three up a little. It seems way too long. But overall, I liked it.