Can you see me??? part 2

5 posts
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Gender Female
Points 709
Reviews 83
I look in the mirror,
and i see a pale
blank face staring back
at me.
Why am i still alive?
No matter how many times
i try,
I can't die.
Why?
"Hello, is this thing on?"




Random avatar
Gender Female
Points 15446
Reviews 136
This poem is incredibly depressing.Please remember to capitalize "I". I cannot find any other mistakes as far as grammar and spelling.I have one suggestion I don't really like how your poem ends with a question. Other than that it is fine.Have a great day and keep writing Fiction.




User avatar
Gender Female
Points 2341
Reviews 17
Hi, this is the first poem I've seen that's this short; I like how its straight to the point and how it doesn't follow the basic syllable count and other things of the sort. I like poems that are more descriptive but I guess this poem is as simple as can be for a purpose. Keep up the work!




User avatar
Gender Female
Points 2104
Reviews 8
Ok, i have 2 things to say to you. First your poem is really depressing. why would you want to write about trying to kill yourself. Also, i dont think i was worded very well. And second, what is up with your avatar? It is kind of not appropriate for this site. If you want to keep that picture at least make all of your posted poems for ages 16 and up. There are some people younger than you that dont really feel like staring at you in this manner...
Those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind.
-Dr. Seuss




User avatar
Gender Female
Points 709
Reviews 83
Fairy- I understand what your saying, but before you start, please be aware there is a part one of this poem. I myself thought there were a few mature pre-teens in this world, and I figured that maybe they would be able to handle it, but in your case I guess not. I don't mean to sound rude, but that's just my opinion.

Thank you for the reveiws. I know it is short and I apologize for that.

Singer.
"Hello, is this thing on?"



"In my contact with people I find that, as a rule, it is only the little, narrow people who live for themselves, who never read good books, who do not travel, who never open up their souls in a way to permit them to come into contact with other souls -- with the great outside world."
— Booker T. Washington, Up From Slavery