Revelations of a condemned being

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With every passing day it becomes more natural-
the feeling of disintegration,
that the old person I once was is now dead
and something new has taken her place,
somebody raw and ruthless.
I began to feel something unfolding-
an unusual, strange feeling
like the shell plastered to my skin
was finally
cracking and breaking away.
I cannot rid of it, or fight against the force
it pushes against me.
A pact with the devil,
I signed with my blood,
The deeds I agreed to
forever singed in my mind.
Every evil task I’m given-
I have to complete
Because of the merciless being I sold myself to,
devoid of life and color.

Though perhaps there is a color that eyes unable to see-
the absence of color- black.
Black lacks light, therefore black is nonexistent.
Perhaps that is what I’ve become- nothing.
A dark shadow in an already shady world.
For when the children’s eyes cry to me and beg me not to take them-
I must obey my master and I strip away their soul.
They concoct tales of monsters and the terrifying
“Grim Reaper”,
but what they don’t comprehend-
I was once them, only I chose condemnation.
"If you were half as funny as you thought you were, my boy,
you'd be twice as funny as you are."

- Dorothea, The Mortal Instruments




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This is really good! I liked your style, but I also liked the idea behind it.

They concoct tales of monsters and the terrifying
%u201CGrim Reaper%u201D,
but what they don%u2019t comprehend-
I was once them, only I chose condemnation.


I love this final stanza. It just puts in blaring lights what the story behind it means. To improve, well, that's a hard one. I'd say:

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BehindtheMask wrote:A pact with the devil,
I signed with my blood,

They concoct tales of monsters and the terrifying
“Grim Reaper”,
but what they don’t comprehend-
I was once them, only I chose condemnation.


B-Mas your poem can be snipped down to these two phrases, showing you're telling me.

See here's the non-obvious thing about poetry that people need to grasp themselves: you can't summarize well used imagery.

Right now, you've been crippled by telling me exactly what this poem is about in these wide, broad pronouns and adjectives.

This is like reading the headlines for the news and gingerly flipping the page, or if you will, clicking the back button or closing the tab.

Cripple me with gut wrenching pain for this condemned being, make me squirm at their agony. Don't let them go on a monologue about their pain or mistake, don't let them sound like a lonely dropout who had no initiative in life except to crack out the Divine Comedy once or twice.



If all pulled in one direction, the world would keel over.
— Yiddish proverb