dasiamari wrote:I stare at the white walls,
the silent tears drip from my face
I look into the small mirror,
my face pale for not having seen the sun
my light hair black (filled?) with filth
(from?) not bathing
I think the structure of this stanza needs a bit of clearing up.
Nothing (is alive?) but me
in this little room,
the only thing alive I think this is a bit repetitive as you've already mentioned it in the first line
but the rats that scurry
It seems as if I have gone deaf,
the only thing I hear is my own screams
as I call for help
or scream just to know that it is real
They locked me up,
no fault of my own
Maybe I have gone blind,
for all I see are white walls
I look there now
(as the?) silent tears drip
This is a good poem.
I just think that it could be fixed up a little bit more.
Good job though
