Who would've guessed?

If this wretched obsession wasn't beating in my chest,
people say that I'd be happy.
Who would've guessed?

The once hot blood running through my veins,
are in a pool in front of you.
Your penetrating words cut me like razor blades.

Draining me.

I'm a blind fool.

There is no ray of light to come from my thoughts,
there's nothing to shatter your dark, dead heart.

While I was sleeping you entered my despair filled dreams,
You ate my soul and screamed cold things.

There
Is
Nothing
Left
Of
Me

mmm, this is very typically emo.

you have some good things going for you though---the format for instance, is lovely. and the flow is pretty nice.

but come on sweetiepie, *everybody* writes about cutting and hating the proverbial "you."

I ADORE dark poetry, but if you want to be dark, you must first be original. why write about warm blood and spilled feelings, etc? Why not write about things that are even more gross, and dark? Why not write about dead skin flakes and vomit and bitten-off fingernail fragments, or dismembered fetuses or gutsssssss? or cleverness or spiders or the dark glint in a serial killers eye? or the originator of the scream?

when it comes to feelings, people don't care....if you really want to disgust them, and be as "dark" as you say you are, surprise us.

it's great to say "dark, dead heart," but why not talk about the twisted organ as it really is, not in its valentines day shape but the soft, pinkness of flesh and blood and veins, the dull th-thump, how it looks a little bit like undercooked meat?

I'm encouraged by your age though! 13 is a good age to be writing. By the time you get a little older, your experience will speak for you. Just keep on writing. <33333

Okay, so maybe I wasn't that dark. I found this is my poem book and re-wrote it.

I know it's not that good, but yikes!

Hello! Sorry for the delay in this critique. I think I'll look at this line by line:

If this wretched obsession wasn't beating in my chest, I like this first line.

people say that I'd be happy.

Who would've guessed?



The once hot blood running through my veins,

are in a pool in front of you. This should be is, not are.

Your penetrating words cut me like razor blades. Good simile.



Draining me.



I'm a blind fool. Why?



There is no ray of light to come from my thoughts,

there's nothing to shatter your dark, dead heart. You could extend this dark/light imagery.



While I was sleeping you entered my despair filled dreams,

You ate my soul and screamed cold things. These two lines sound good together.



There

Is

Nothing

Left

Of

Me I like this last part too, but I don't think it should be broken down so much. Having it as a separate stanza on it's own, just one line long, should be fine.

In general, this poem is...well, it's a little general. It needs more description. Your imagery is good and it's pretty well written, but I want to know more about you and who you're talking about. Keep writing, let me know if you want anything else critiqued!

Oh, wow thanks. Long review, I'll change tis sometime...