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Just Listen..

by Casanova

Why do you let this happen to you? 

You're not strong, or big, or even mean.

You can't fight this yourself, you can't even begin.



It's just a phone call away.

Just a shout away.

One call, and it would be over.

But instead you keep staying there.

Always brushing the bruises away.

Always brushing the scars away.



What's in it for you to stay there?

To be there, day after day, night after night,

Always serving a fool.

He gives you no purpose.

All he does is harm you, doesn't he?

You need to leave- but I guess you love him.

And you think he loves you, too.

But those bruises are truth, and those scars are too.

Look at what you're doing to yourself- just take a look.

You think you deserve it just because you're not big and strong- and you can't meet his standard.

I say it's his fault for the way he's treating you.

I say it's his fault-  what he's doing to you.

But you'll never understand.. I can tell you first hand what he is doing isn't love. 

I can tell you first hand you don't deserve this- no one does.

Please.. Just listen to me- I don't want you to anything you'd regret. 

I don't want  you to do anything that will cause you to wind up dead.

Is this a review?



Random avatar

Points: 5430
Reviews: 88

Wed Sep 07, 2016 1:43 pm
Gummy wrote a review...

I figured I'd eventually run into one of your works, Casanova! My name is Gummy, and I'll be reviewing this piece of yours. I'll cut the chit-chat and head on down to the nitty-gritty: Let's get WRITE into the review!

Okay, so first things off, I'm almost entirely sure this entire piece isn't an on-the-fly thing. The emotional display you're presenting here makes it pretty clear that at any point of your life you've gone through a similar situation with a friend or loved one and you're just letting off some steam as data on a webpage... Or as digital ink on digital paper, if that suits your fancy.

With that said, let's jump right into the actual analysis of your work. If I were to talk about all the good points of this piece, I'd be writing an essay, and ain't nobody got time for that. I'll just bring up my favorite part of the whole thing, which fits into two lines:

"And you think he loves you too."
"But those bruises are truth and those scars are too."

It's not really anything grammatical or literary that drew me into this particular section. I just a small click in my head that made me empathize with both the speaker and the person who's supposed to receive the message. I'm no veteran of domestic violence, but I do realize from experience that the goggles of love can leave pretty much anyone blinded completely from the real situation going on, and I can feel the frustration coming from the speaker.

As for the iffy sections, I'll just pick out the smaller things because, to be honest, there's not much to nitpick with. The grammar is very good, with only minute slips such as writing two periods instead of an ellipses. The least unnoticeable thing that I found lies in this line:

"All he does is harm you, isn't it?"

I believe that this line would make more sense if it ended with the words "doesn't he?"

Well, that's my time. I've got some more assignments to take care of, so I'll say good-bye for now. Good luck in your future endeavours, and those include Review Month. Have a nice day!

User avatar
9 Reviews

Points: 39
Reviews: 9

Wed Sep 07, 2016 1:34 pm
tiyu wrote a review...

This poem is a sort of friendly or parently advice for someone who has got so blind in love that he/she is unable to make out what his lover is doing to her.How she is been harmed and bruised and that no one deserves this kind of torture.The way of writing is creating a suspense as to what it is about.Lovers do give pain but that pain is often complimented by pleasure .In love we often fail to understand the negative behaiviour since we are so blind in love. Love doesnt mean pain and it means happiness which is clearly understood by your poem.
Hope to read more from you..
keep writing

We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.
— Arthur O'Shaughnessy