In remembrance of the forgotten

Finally, finally, FINALLY finally here for a review. Whoo.
Okay, a few quick suggestions.

So there you stand,
watching them labour on.
They lie anything but peacefully,
while you do nothing but scorn.

This is one of the most beautiful poems I've ever read. Loved "An empty bed will be made,
and the sheets scented new. " - it describes the ongoing nature of the human experience quite well.

"when time grew still." and "when it all went downhill. " didn't quite sound right.

There's some really powerful stanzas in my opinion, there are also some weaker ones in my opinion that didn't quite fit with the finish. I feel like it's trying to tackle two subjects, when one is sufficient.

From my standpoint, the one that tackles the existential side is quite profound, but the message would be better conveyed if it were bittersweet - as is in life.

Well this is probably the saddest thing to happen when you die. I mean we spend our whole lives trying to make the biggest impression on the world so it lasts and we feel important so that we can be remembered forever, and yet the sad, cruel truth is, that we can be forgotten with time. Wow, this is a really great poem, and that's how I interpret it. So my only question is Hassanfs, what inspired it?

Hey it's Taylor! I really liked this poem, honestly. It sounded very mature and from what you wrote, like it came from with in you. I love the transitioning between the stanzas and you kept my attention the whole way through. The way you change though is both intriguing and attention keeping. My only advise is that if you want a rhythmic scheme you should choose one and stick to it, hard. But thank you for sharing! I really enjoyed it.

Hello! Sylar here for a short review. I thought this was a really cool poem, and I'm going to review by each section:

When the future wasn't so bleak,

the ray of hope still shone bright.

The midnight suns were rising,

you still feared the night.

For all those emergent years,

when time grew still.

They were always there to take the fall,

when it all went downhill.

The grass was heavily trodden,

they paid for your sins.

Even though the pain was insidious,

there was no where else they would've rather been.

So there you stand,

watching them labour on.

They lie anything but peacefully,

while you do nothing but scorn.

Now it is them you hate,

and hate is a word thrown too often.

Was their heinous crime,

that they were merely forgotten?

And when they are gone,

the words will no longer come.

The repetition will be forlorn,

your deeds will be done.

A guilty conscience will fade in,

none will worry about the forgotten past.

Tears will run amuck,

the celestial silence will forever last.

An empty bed will be made,

and the sheets scented new.

Their presence will still linger on,

but only be felt by a beloved few.

The site won't let me correct the formatting. Bug or something. Every four lines are supposed to constitute a stanza.