normal is that way

by Chanson

Published May 3, 2005

i am making up
sorrows and tragedies
and unrequited loves.

i am trying to forget what it is
that makes up my world and hide it
in a crack in the wall but the people around me
can't seem to forget who i was before.

i am pulling at skin
and grasping at thin air.

i am running from
pitying glances and sighing
over coffee cups,
writing inspired poems and
painting abstract paintings that i tell
people have a hidden meaning in the
scratches of purple paint.

(if no one can see me
i might disappear)

i am drinking too much vodka and kissing every
boys with smooth hair in the hope that
something will make me forget

how very ordinary i am.

Comments & reviews · 4
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antigone
Comment
antigone commented Comment · May 8, 2005

That's beautiful. I really liked it.

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Firestarter
Comment
Firestarter commented Comment · May 6, 2005

I love your poetry, Chanson.

This is no exception.

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Liz
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Liz commented Comment · May 6, 2005

Great, I really like the concept, it's really understandable. It was well-written, very original. What Nate pointed out in the second stanza would really help to be fixed up, but other than that, pretty good!

User avatar
Nate
Review
Nate wrote a review Review · May 5, 2005

"sorrow and tragedies"
should be
"sorrows and tragedies"
since the rest of the stanza is in plural form.

"i am trying to forget what is"
This line works as is, but sounds awkward. Adding "it" before "is" may solve that problem.

"i am running from
pitying glances and sighing
over coffee cups"
This sounds like the same people who are casting pitying glances are also sighing over coffee cups. Add a comma before "and" to take care of that.

"boys with smooth hair in the hope that "
Change boys to boy.


Overall, I actually did really like this; it has an interesting theme that you don't usually read. It also brings up a point that I think everyone has come across; that is, there is always some time in our life that we want to change, but too many people know us as we were before that change becomes very difficult. It's also cool how you stress the kind of frantic nature that the person is in right now, as well as the low self-esteem.



I lingered round them, under that benign sky: watched the moths fluttering among the heath and harebells, listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass, and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
— Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights