Young Writers Society

Silence is golden; she should be rich
Too lame to meet; to unknown to ditch
She’s so outdated, a waste of space
She’s the nerdy girl with blackheads on her face
Clothes and hair right from magazines
She’s another victim of high school teens

She would be seen, or die trying
She hated herself; there was no point in lying
They were her Gods, they were perfect
They ignored her, complete rejection
She tried to be seen, make herself heard
But she ended up teased and she ended up hurt

How can you die without a life?
Put on your gloss, slice with your knife
Lab partners and cheerleading squads
They have designers, but you have frauds
Short skirts, high heels, homework overdue
They’re not all that great, but they’re better than you

Misery loves company, yet she’s all alone
She doesn’t exist she sits there unknown
She copied their hair and the way that they talk
She’s got it all down, even the walk
Still they don’t want her, still she’s not right
Still they hunt her on that dark fateful night

They’ve both got the same name
Social climbers want the fame
But they’re all staring at her walk
She’s the subject of locker room talk
They both smile and praise her
But they want to decapitate her
And put it on their Facebook
With her bleeding and their pouty look

He asked her out, it was like a dream
It was all she could do not to faint, cry, or scream
He loved her, she knew it, she’d known all along
He’d read all her poems and heard her love song
She bought a new dress and tamed her bad hair
She stared out the window until he was there

Porcelain skin with slipknot tees
Skinny jeans with the ripped knees
Metal bands and lips painted red
She’s sarcastic because she’s rejected
Vintage clothes like a horror flick
She’s jaded with a touch of gothic

He took her out to the lake and parked the car
She’d never been kissed, never gone far
She held her breath, braced herself for the kiss
She expected to be loved, she didn’t expect this
He tore at her clothes, took her by her hair
Dragged her out of the car, where her Gods stood there

They laughed at her while she cried
She was beaten until she died
She wanted to be seen, but instead she was hurt
She wanted to be liked but was treated like dirt.
She had that insatiable need
But her Gods hit her and left her to bleed

The nerdy girl passed away
But her young soul had to stay
She’s still the same lame girl
Stuck somewhere between worlds
There is a lesson that can’t be taught
I guess the afterlife isn’t what she though

If you find yourself on the outside looking in
When being popular seems like everything
Remember that it’s not life- or- death
That you ought to be you when you take your last breath
Be you: Goth, God, wannabe, or nerd
Nobody else can decide if you deserve to be heard

This has a good message behind it, and your rhymes are solid. I mean, the rhyming never sounded awkward and you never had to sacrifice meaning for rhyme or put a sentence together weirdly. What I would like to see you do - I mean, I understand that the nerdy girl probably sees the popular kids as "gods" and that she probably sees herself as "lame," but it'd be nice if you represented her as being a bit cooler - it's not entirely clear that it's HER thinking she's lame; it sounds more like the narrator is like, "Well, she was lame, but you should just be okay being lame if you're lame," when really what you were going for (I think) was something more along the lines of, "People are just cool no matter who they are, just be yourself." (Unless you're a psychopathic serial killer, of course, then I'd say you're not cool and I would like you to be someone else, please!)

Also I'm not totally clear on what they did to her - they just beat her up, basically? That's all I'm getting from this, so if you had another idea then maybe you should go into a little more detail. I mean, nothing too graphic, just to let people know what's going on. Also I was a little confused by this stanza:

Porcelain skin with slipknot tees
Skinny jeans with the ripped knees
Metal bands and lips painted red
She’s sarcastic because she’s rejected
Vintage clothes like a horror flick
She’s jaded with a touch of gothic

I mean, is this the nerd? Because it must be, based on the fact that she's who the poem is about, but it doesn't sound like her at all. Is this someone else, or is this how the nerdy girl dresses for her date? You may also want to clear that up.

The only other thing is that you get a little preachy in that last verse. I mean, I understand you have a message you're trying to get across, and I understand it's probably difficult to be sure you've gotten it across without saying it outright, but you just have to trust your readers. If you can find a way to end this poem without coming right out and telling us what the message is, you'll be golden.

~Blue

Hi there

I really liked your poem. It had a really good meaning to it and it was very understandable. Your rhyming was brilliant! I think you did a really great job and it just seemed to flow in with your words. I really admire that.

I didn't understand the same verse that BlueAfrica didn't understand so I agree that needs to be made more clearer.

There isn't much else I can say except you did great!

Deanie x