What is the weight of a soul
That has never been broken?
What is the weight of skin,
Not pressed toward the earth,
By the weight of its scars?
What is the worth of a name,
Never screamed, never dragged
In and out of a deep ocean, where tears mix with blood,
And sweat turns into the only feast in sight.
What is the worth of love,
That lasts forever, that was perfect in every way,
That was endless, practiced, predictable,
Never seeing a single tear, until you wake up and die.
What does it mean to be alive,
To live and die, to expand and contract, to love and hate,
To cry and laugh, to remain oblivious and feel it all,
To make yourself heavy, just to make yourself light?
What does it mean to die,
To sleep and wake again, to play a song to have it end,
to fall and never get up, to discover the weight of your soul,
Only to experience pain that feels like the bottom of the ocean,
It was peaceful; you were an explorer; you went where you wanted to go,
Only to be crushed by the permeating weight of nothingness.
What is the weight of a soul,
That holds its heart in place with its left hand,
Desperate to see beauty; desperate for before; desperate for always.
What is life, other than loss and separation, thinking you have found yourself,
Only to lose everything again, becoming invisible to how you were seen.
What is the weight of a soul,
Who craves suffering because it makes them feel beautiful,
Who loves someone who is everything that they could never be,
Because the weight of a soul is so heavy, that they could never
Forget the feeling of surrendering to this being.
What is beauty, other than misery?
Love, other than desperation?
Passion, other than longing?
And satisfaction, other than endurance?
What is the worth of a tear that runs down your cheek,
Never seen by a lover, never seen by an enemy?
What makes the sunset so much more beautiful
when you are searching for something that you cannot name?
What is the weight of a soul,
When it sees its search and knows its name,
Drops its stones, broken and untamed?
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141,105 Literary Works • 674,105 Reviews
Hia Ellie, have come to you in my efforts to work on my bookmarks :3
oh that is an abrupt end to that wake up and die…. I do like the phrasing tho!The pressing question is even: what is the weight of a soul, period. Not just one that has never been broken? Because why should that matter, truly?
Not so sure abt picking up “live and die” a couple of verses later.
I really like this line! It’s like, the contrast right. No joy without sadness?
this feels… like a sore thumb, sticking out in a line of rhythmic verses. It is less fitting that the repeated what is the weight of a soul, a few lines later bc I feel like you repeat the word “die” a lot already…
Also interesting choice to pick up the ocean motive again when you had it very effectively earlier. I’m not sure I like it, it makes the other instance feel less unique and this doesn’t feel like a callback.
I like that you specify the left hand, the one that is on the side of the heart for most ppl.
Oh is this abt never realizing what other people see when they look at you? How important or not important you are to them?
These are just some thoughts I was having :3
Good morning, dear writer! Today, we chickens, for our longest dream of clearing the Green Room and dethroning the Golden Goose
to finally sit on it ourselves, bring to you-The Chicken Sandwich Template
Top Bun: First impressions
I think this was absolutely stunning. I was shocked at the way it reached my heart and made me think about what it really means to live.
Slightly Wilted Lettuce: Critiques
To be honest, I don't really have any critiques. It's truly amazing work.
Crispy Chicken: Favorite details
I really liked this part;
I felt this because it reminded me of what depression feels like, and how I wonder sometimes what it even means to live or die or breathe.
Ketchup: Suggestions for improvement
One thing that got me was the line spacing. I appreciate a more spaced out poem with stanzas, rather than one big chunk. It's easier to comprehend.
Bottom Bun: Closing thoughts
Overall this was absolutely amazing. I love all of your work.
We hope this was helpful! Farewell now, we've got a Review Day to win!!
Bok bok bok buGAWK!!
Chickens
--With best intentions, Yuuki
xxxx
This poem understands something that I find many people do not truly contemplate: love and hurt are often spoken in the same breath. To love someone is to think of them constantly, to need their presence so deeply that their absence becomes a wound. The poem describes this very well.
The same logic runs throughout the work. To live is to hurt, because life doesn't offer a version of itself without pain. The poem asks us what an unbroken soul weighs, what unscarred skin feels like, what perfect love looks like and in every case, the answer is empty. Something that never really existed at all.
What struck me most is how the poem handles beauty. To be beautiful here is not a gift. It is almost an exposure. It invites the misery of others, their projections, their desires, their cruelty. Beauty becomes another form of weight the soul has to carry.
This poem does not need revision.
This poem is perfect, although I may be incorrect in my assumption. Its repetitions are deliberate. Its questions circle back on themselves which creates a beautiful structure. You outdid yourself with this piece of art.