Beauty in Death [Don't worry, it's too late]

Any better?



As a broken angel looks, she’ll see herself.
It’s a broken mirror with a distorted figure
Lying its way into her soul, she’ll listen.
Running her hands down her fragile body
Along every amazing curve, every bone
She’ll block out every ones words
Only because she's afraid of the real picture

She’s beautiful through broken bones
Stuck out ribs, don’t pull to far. She’ll snap

Flash backs show thin blonde strands hanging over the sink
Hands grasping for dear life
Showing her walking away, knowing she has less, and less feeling
Putting on her famous fake smile, Plastic looks never fail

She’ll repeat herself, meal after meal
Sucked into what others want
She’ll continue on until the day
Her beauty falls, her life is short
Her breaths are weak, her heart races
Looking into that mirror she sees herself
Running her hands over her body she knows it’s to late
She’s beautiful… Even in death

Is this about anorexia? I can be slow. It was pretty, but I didn't feel anything...Though I did love the ending. But I didn't really go "awww she's dying" either, which is probably a problem?

You'll want to make your reader feel. Either have us sympathize with and feel bad for the girl, or have us relate to her (in the way that we are forced images from the media of what is beauty?).

Also, you had almost no punctuation. At first I thought you had some, but then it floated away. Poetry & Punctuation.

Happy Editing =D

I think the idea behind this poem is good and it has potential but I agree that your grammar needs improvement and your images could be stronger. I also picked up on a few typos/mistakes -

In the first stanza, 'every ones' should be one word and you've missed off the second 'o' in too, in the second stanza. There should probably be a dash between flash and backs at the beginning of the third stanza and on the second to last line, you need to put too rather than 'to.'

As a broken angel looks, she’ll see herself.
It’s a broken mirror with a distorted figure
Lying its way into her soul, she’ll listen.
Running her hands down her fragile body,
Along every amazing curve, every bone
She’ll block out every ones words,
Only because she's afraid of the real picture

She’s beautiful through broken bones
Stuck out ribs, don’t pull to far. She’ll snap

Flash backs show thin blonde strands hanging over the sink.
Hands grasping for dear life
Unwanted objects will find their way into an unwanted place
Pushing up something that was never meant to last long
Hands grasp harder, back sinks low
Coming to the end, it’s all over
Everything she’s had falls out, pulling along her soul
She’s walking away, knowing she has less, and less feeling
Putting on her famous fake smile, Plastic looks never fail

She’ll repeat herself, meal after meal,
Sucked into what others want
She’ll continue on until the day
Her beauty falls, her life is short
Her breaths are weak, her heart races
Looking into that mirror she sees herself
Running her hands over her body she knows it’s to late
She’s beautiful… Even in death.

I have seen stronger imagery in other poems, but it's still very very good. The contradiction of what we see and what the character sees really shows through, and for you to do that at the same time is clever. I especially like the description of 'every amazing curve, every bone '. It just links feeling with vision so well.

And 'thin blonde strands hanging over the sink' really put the image in my head. I could see what was happening. Well done.