Boy

I had to write poem for school about a hidden self. I loved my first draft, but the the teacher said I had to include thought shots and sensory details. So, here's the original, then the revised one for school in the spoiler. Which is better?
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Sitting at a table,
Talk is just a matter of fabricated words.
I am the pawn of lunchroom semiotics.
I am the girl, the one who lives for
The next cover of Vouge and
Has sequins in her eyes.
I am the girl who wears too much makeup;
The girl who wakes up two hours early
To watch her hair burn to perfection.

Can you see into my eyes?
They are carefully prescribed.
You will not see past the ocean I’ve created there.
To you, I swim in glitter.
The hours are measured in crimps and tucks
And microphone static.
Oceans filled with shopping carts
And free samples of that new sandlewood perfume.

Young girls, they say, are fancy- free.
I was not out shopping for a doll.
I was looking for an action figure; and can’t they understand that
I want to have Superman, Spiderman, Man, man, man.
I am no frilly heroine in a leotard.
Sometimes, at night, in a blanket fort with my stack of Marvels
I would look at the advertisements in the back pages.
Even then, I knew it was silly.
I would not waste my fifty cents on a pamphlet.
Even if it promised to make the reader look like Mr. Universe.
But I would wonder.

I am the girl who is not.
If you were to peel me away, my flesh, my bones,
you would see a different mind.
In this world, this life, this masquerade;
born this way, I shall die the same.
But at the core, behind the mask
I am just another blue-eyed boy.

Spoiler

Sitting at a table,
The air is a sea of fabricated words.
I am the pawn of lunchroom semiotics.
I am the girl, the one who lives for
The laminated shine of a Vogue cover and
Has sequins in her eyes.
The girl who wears too much makeup;
The girl who wakes up two hours early
To watch the smoke curl from her hair.

Can you see into my eyes?
Those deceptive, gleaming mirrors.
You will not see past the ocean I’ve created there;
where I swim in glitter.
The hours are measured in crimps and tucks
and microphone static.
I wonder if they see the truth behing the shopping carts
and free samples of perfume, making the air sickly sweet.

Young girls, they say, are fancy- free.
I was not out shopping for a doll.
No; an action figure,
Can’t they understand that I want to have Superman, Spiderman, man, man, man?
No heroine in a frilly, suffocating leotard.
Sometimes, at night, in a blanket fort with my stack of Marvels
I would look at the advertisements in the back pages.
Never wasting my fifty cents on a pamphlet,
even if it promised to make the reader look like Mr. Universe.
But I wonder...

I am the girl who is not.
If you were to peel me away, my flesh, my bones,
you would see a different mind.
In this world, this life, this masquerade;
born this way, I shall die the same.
But at the core, behind the mask
I am just another blue-eyed boy.

Hello

The two poems are each others flaw if that makes sense.

I would say to you what your teacher said to you for the first one, yes. But then with the re-draft I think it's been done too much.

I think get rid of the italics for starters as they make the piece less poignant in my opinion.

However, i did love your second stanza of the original I thought that was perfect.

I did like it all, but i think another re-draft with a middle ground, and if one does happen, let me know and i will review it for you

If you need anything let me know, and don't stop.

~Retro Disco666

It's okay, I don't get the title but maybe that's just me. I liked your good vocabulary; however, the words didn't really make sense to me. I don't understand this really..... Is this about a girl wanting to get the freedom of a boy? If so, I'm guessing this is in the 1900s where women didn't get many privileges. Other than that, it's alright. Keep writing!

honestly the second draft is a bit of a mess. the thoughts don't fit and the extra sensory details feel painfully tacked on. The original is the far more superior version specifically because you choose to not waste time on flowery lines of inner thought which only serve to disrupt the piece. I admit the piece is a bit unfocused at times, you hammer home I am not this, not that, this is how you see me as, but I felt I'd learned enough of who you think she is very quickly and I didn't feel I'd learned enough of who she really is, aside that she is more of a simple, stripped down, unfreed woman.

That said, this is a very good piece. You fill it with tight, concise imagery that really pulls the reader in and maintain a constant flow. It's a powerful and respectful look at the oppresive feeling held by women who are held down, never given the chance to be who they reaally are.

Good work :]