You see

You look at me, through weary eyes full of prejudice; you see what you expect to see.
To you, I am the girl with a short temper, the girl with no manners, the girl with blue hair...
But you refuse to see the stories I've read and the stuff I've been through and my experiences so rare.

When you see me on the street, in my old jeans and ratty black tee, headphones in, you scowl.
But you have no idea of the nights I've spent listening to the arguments, the hard thums on the wall.
You don't care to see the days bent retching over the toilet or hoping for that special someone to call.

You walk past me with your ankle-biter and expect me to bow down to you, for your years and that only.
But in your years, I doubt there has been as much fire and sickness and lost friends and mental warfare as in mine.
So I will not worship the ground you walk on because you are ignorant and older than I.

You march through your days, with a superior attitude, not caring to see what is clearly before you.
You do not see the nights spent crying or him staggering around in false cheer when he's drunk, do you?
My angsty teenage exterior, with dark clothes and attitude and eyeliner must fool you.

Because, you see, you've lived a normal life, free of peril or strife, never really feeling the need to escape.
You've never turned to bottles or pills, never painted or wrote, never really ran from reality.
But someday, someday... You'll get into trouble or fight with a friend or fall ill to a terrible maledy.

And when that happens, I'll give you a hand, the way that I always do for some reason.
I will not believe your mirage, happy old woman mirage, not for one second will I.
Even though when I needed you, you just left me there to fry or to cry or to die.

Good morning, Painting!

I’m not sure what it is about this piece, but I’m rather on the fence about it; however, I do like what you have going for you, and I think you can turn it into gold with just a bit of work. Now, I’m hoping you’re willing to work with me on this and not leave this work untouched—it would be a shame, really. But you have a chance at a powerful impact here. See, the line between preaching and evoking empathy is very blurry, and you’ve hit that line several times here—and I’d like to nudge you away from that line, so to speak, as it takes away from your power. So to do that, we need focus, restraint, and imagery.

But I’ll return to that. First, I want to talk about word choice and flow. I’m unsure how familiar you are with poetry—whether you’re completely new to the genre, or if you’re quite the Chaucer, but to me, flow is the accessibility of poetry. If your sentences roll like water over river stones, then your audience will be more susceptible to your point, to your requests, per se. On the flip –side of that is the tragedy that, if your piece doesn’t flow well, most readers will just stop before line three.

Therefore, let’s look at your first stanza together, and then you can apply the advice to the remainder of the poem. Do this several times in the editing process, but never actually delete your previous work. It’s very important that you remember where you came from.

You look at me, through weary eyes full of prejudice; you see what you expect to see.

Opening lines, to me, should be rather BAM-ish. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be the case here, as this line, as much of its followers, stretches far beyond what it should be allotted. I suggest inserting more frequent and intentional line breaks in your piece—both to freshen up the flow and to place tension where tension is needed. And tension is needed. But yes. Word choice and flow.

Imagine a way that you can say “weary eyes full of prejudice” without using so many words. Could you perhaps allude to a person in history, or in literature, who had weary eyes? Who was full of prejudice? One of those domineering characters from a classic novel—one of those universal baddies that will trigger something in the reader’s head that says Oh, she’s alluding to _____, so this person she’s talking about must have the same characteristics. That’s how you plug your meaning into poetry without being so blunt. There are numerous places in your piece where you can do this, but I’d rather you find them on your own as a growing poet rather than having someone pinpoint what they’d like to see you do.

Later on in your first stanza, we encounter the word “stuff”. This is a sin for which poets go to the bad place down under. Be intentional and precise in your word choice—you’ll be amazed how much it ripens your poetry. Instead of ‘stuff’, show me what this poor girl has been through with heart-wrenching detail.

Which brings me back to my original stance with this piece—preaching versus empathy.

Once we’re introduced to the contrast between girl-with-raggy-shirt and woman-with-child, we’re bombarded with this constant “You think you’re better than me, but this is why you’re not” stream of crying that doesn’t have any place here. Perhaps there’s another way to do this—something along the lines of showing both worlds with narrative and imagery, something relatable and in reach—that can help us as readers feel your point without wanting to turn you off.

Anyway, I’ve talked far too much about this. I want to nudge you about your rhyming as well—be natural with it and don’t let it distract from your meaning. I know it takes a certain degree of cleverness to make rhymes work so freely, but until you find that natural flow, I suggest stepping back from it slightly.

Let me know if you have any questions or need anything, and keep writing.

-Lumi

Beautiful! I love how you call it a "letter". The ideas in this work have really formed some beautiful emotion. I love how is looks like a letter and a poem smashed together! Some of the lines you used created beautiful imagery!
Example ;
You walk past me with your ankle-biter and expect me to bow down to you
When you see me on the street, in my old jeans and ratty black tee, headphones in, you scowl
You look at me, through weary eyes full of prejudice; you see what you expect to see.

Your ending to your work was spot on! My only suggestions is your poem climaxes in 2 parts. When the girl relieves her hardship, and when "you" struggles. I think their is more potential in those ideas to be larger. Larger in the sense of a larger contrast between. Just remember to use all the senses effectively, like smell, touch, sight, and hear. Beautiful work! I love this piece!

You look at me, through weary eyes full of prejudice;

I don't think you need this comma. Strike it.

the hard thums on the wall

Hard thums? Or hard thumps?

So I will not worship the ground you walk on because you are ignorant and older than I.

Yeah! Take that! Sometimes the people older than you don't deserve the respect they demand. Wonderful.

fall ill to a terrible maledy

malady*

Other than that, excellent job. There's not much to say here, so keep up the good work!

KF