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endearingly catastrophic

by Ciblio

Warning: This work has been rated 18+.

miraculously unspoken the lullabies carried,

(un)conscious being and the mental shit varied;

she rose from the dead, tha homies up tokin’

ashes crossfaded- invent a high that we can soak in

don’t mind the tweety birds, they’re all in my head

Wishing every day that them bitches was fuckin dead

“just numb the pain again, you’ll feel better in the mornin”

that’s what they tell you.. then the rain starts pouring

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178 Reviews

Points: 1043
Reviews: 178

Fri Nov 01, 2019 11:17 pm
EverLight wrote a review...

EverLight here with a review. This review is not intended to offend or hurt you or make your novel or poem seem bad, but be warned- you may feel offended anyway

First Impression
Okay...this wasn't bad. But it wasn't what I had hoped for.

Nitpicks & Grammar
No issues here-(the swear words though are a bit un-grammerical but I understand rap uses such vile words, so I'm not complaining.)

Style & Flow
Just one thing-Watch your caps

Overall you did a neat job. With a little cleaning though it could be better.

EverLight Out

User avatar
8 Reviews

Points: 97
Reviews: 8

Wed Oct 30, 2019 4:04 pm
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LilyPhelen wrote a review...

This seems like part of a rap, which would be classified as poetry. Congratulations on successfully making me afraid of you! (I'm just kidding). however, I like your use of parenthesis it allows us to look at it from two different perspectives. The italicized thoughts also let us look inside the narrators mind even if it is only for a second and they are mostly grim, we understand why because of the people talking to him, and the things going on around him.
Overall this is a really good poem, the only obvious error is being the "you.." and it would be "you. . ."
other than that it sounds very musical and I like it a lot. Keep writing!

It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats—the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill —The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it—and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another.
— JRR Tolkien