And you can drink the dead sea.-line removed due to laziness-That salt is your sin?
You told me my type should burn in hell.
You told me ‘my type’ should burn in hell.You as good as wielded my knife.This isn't really needed, the poem uses the same idea later on in an effective way. Not just saying oh I have a knife, you're doing something with that knife, it matters there(4th stanza from the bottom), but not here.You covered your daggers in ‘sweet concern’.He told me I was just to be used. With what is said right below, this could be a reference of how to build off that you're making. The knives are tools and you make the relation that you are being used, like that tool.She infected both you and I. This line would be good but it's not used in the right way. You're talking about knives and daggers and starting imagery off like that and then jumping to disease makes it lose the power / relation that you were already building. Now, the ‘good people’, you see.Oh, they’re so much better.Yes, You don't really offer a question or anything, you're basicly agreeing with yourself which doesn't really do anything.Better at hiding those ‘small’ indiscretions what small indescretions? You should fill this in with what is happening. This doesn't really tell us much as to what is happening or how it is happening.From the gaze of those ‘all-seeing’ public eyes You could combine this with the first line of this stanza, like the "good people" with their "all-seeing" public eyes. Who qualify to know *cough guess*The ‘truth’ that they see in the ones they despise.
Fine, fine? The people got angry and then you got angry. But over what? Let’s let the fucking public judge You've covered this partially in the stanza above, when you were speaking of their eyes and the truths they wish to hold. That gave the sense that they are judging you when paired with the indescretions. I think that parts of this, that go with the indescretions should be put togeather to make that idea whole. Such as the burning and how it may work with the indescretions. A simple relation of the set, as indescrete as the kerosene you burned etc. And let them tell us who’s to blame.Let’s let them burn the keroseneIn whoever’s fucking name. This could work really well if it was paired with more imagery to back it up.Well done, you’ve killed this fucked-up lifeEven better than the ones you mockLet’s stand and let you take a bowGood Sir, good Madam, now don’t you feel proud? This line could work well if used elsewhere, I just feel that it is too close to what is above, in terms of lines seperating and in what you're saying. You went from anger to scolding without any action inbetween to allow for this. I mean, later on you mention her cutting herself and all this stuff which I think better shows these ideas. Perhaps that "don't you feel proud now" could fit into there, maybe? It would have more imagery / something more concrete to back it up. He’s a Christian.She’s a Jew.He’s still dating her.Aw, she thought you knew. I don't quite understand the significance of this. They fight because she's a jew or something? And I don't see how that really helps push the idea that she's the damaging factor, besides her hiding pieces of infomation about herself.(which you could use with the infection idea, or something similar to it if you choose to rewrite that part.)
Now,Consider your ‘offer’ of ‘buying her time’Because only for his love is her sex a crime. I think you should add a comma after sex to give the crime idea more of a punch. I like this idea too.But there! As you dragged her into the dark, You don't need the but there. I don't see what it adds to the poem.Did you hear the tolling start? What does tolling sound like? Is it a man asking for change, because as far as I can tell, tolling has no sound, perhaps besides the clang of change or something. You might want to rewrite or expand on this a bit more. The death knell burning in her skin, I guess knell is the sound of the tolling? It may work better if you were to combine these lines. Since a knell is normally used for death, you don't need to put death there to describe it, it's redundant.Clashing the chorus of her sin. This seems kinda random, it's not fully backed up. I mean, I understand the chorus and the bell, the sin being prostitution but theres nothing to back up the clashing. So it doesn't make total sense, unless its her doing her job. Which would be pretty hard since you're describing her as dead or close to it.
That night she drew her swan breath in a bedMade soft with all her razor blades,That kissed her wrists with the romance you lacked.As the hands that you’d kissed now dealt the trades
The harlequin scars of the harlequin girlDyed the sheets with the dying muckThe scarlet of a scarlet womanDamned by her damning rumour-spread fuck. This stanza doesn't really seem needed at all. We know she was cutting, and you can keep the fool idea, the harlequin and perhaps mix it in somewhere else, where ever you feel best. He is rich.And she is poor.He’s a gentlemanAnd she’s a whore. this stanza and all others like it, should really be a part of the description. Like when you speak of what they are doing, you can mention him with jewels or some other form of wealth and her with rags. Just pieces that can show their differences while suggesting that they are coming togeather and are not so different after all, like the last stanza suggests. The parallels in theses are what should be worked in, not thrown in.In life we’re all so ‘different’And soon we’ll all be dead,But have you ever wondered why,When cut, we all bleed red? I like this ending, it's a good idea to work with and try to build your poem around. When you're rewriting(if you do) try to see if you can makethe imagery back this up, the actions fall in the line or being different or similar. Stuff that relates to this but doesn't scream it or copy it to the point of it being boring.
Fine,Let’s let the fucking public judgeAnd let them tell us who’s to blame.Let’s let them burn the keroseneIn whoever’s fucking name.
He’s black.She’s white.He’s gay.She’s bi. I’m perfectAnd you can drink the dead sea.Didn’t they tell you?That salt is your sin?
You told me ‘my type’ should burn in hell.You as good as wielded my knife.???You covered your daggers in ‘sweet concern’.He told me I was just to be used.She infected both you and I. Who is she?
From the gaze of those ‘all-seeing’ public eyesWho qualify to know *cough guess*I don't like this part, makes it seem childishThe ‘truth’ that they see in the ones they despise.
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