Young Writers Society

Hey, Artie, I'm gonna try to take this on.

This is a really difficult poem to even touch. It's obviously very personal, and I feel like the purpose perhaps was catharsis more than to share with others. However, I'll tell you what I think as if you were trying to write it for an audience.

First of all, let's talk about length. It's long. Good content, good use of repetition, but it is long. That's good though, because it's always easier to reduce than to expand. I have a huge list of "fragments" on my phone, and sometimes, I combine them to form a bigger poem. I'd like to pull the most provocative parts of this poem and put them into a smaller, but super nutritious poem. Kinda like Kale. All those vitamins in one small leaf.

Also, while I recommended the roman numerals in my last review for you, I actually advise against them in this case. I think this will be more powerful if they are not labeled sections, but time progresses naturally with the breaking of stanzas.

Here we go! I'm just gonna do it. If any particular line isn't included, feel free to add it back in. You're the poet, ultimately.

This isn’t happening.

Torn t-shirt hidden beneath zipped up jacket.
Walk fast until you get home. You don’t let yourself think.
You sleep a dreamless sleep.

Cold shower.
Three cups of coffee, two Monster Energy Drinks,
tea you let get cold before you dump it out.
No drugs. God dammit,
no drugs.

your father
calls people like you
deserving sluts;
There may be no drugs in you
but your wrists have bled
for the first time in years.

You want to tell someone.
You need to tell them;
the way your hands tremble
and about the kiss mark
shaped bruises on your soul.
but you open your mouth and no sound comes out.
Once again, you are a coward.
No wonder it happened;
they always prey on the weak.

You throw the torn up shirt
into the rubbish bin
and you try to wash the sour taste of him
from your mouth;
you can’t forget the dirtiness
that coats your cheeks like grime.
The inside of your skin hurts,
and you’re not sure
the bruises on your body will fade -
You write a poem, telling yourself
that writing about it and crying about it
will somehow change the fact that it happened.

You look into the mirror
and vomit into the sink;
no wonder it was your turn
to be wounded;
predators, with beady eyes
and the bottle in their hand,
their knives to your throat
and their intentions clearer
than the starry night sky,
they always go for the weak.

It’s more of a game, you see,
no bucks to be shot
or pelts to be harvested;
the entire score
is based upon maiming,
upon taking what they want
and leaving bits and pieces,
splintered bones in your heart
and teeth marks in the concave
of your neck; they lap up
your tears and laugh.

The sound of your begging
will remain an eternal hum,
buzzing in your brain,
and you will spend the rest of your life
trying to drown it out.

Right, I decided to review this since it would be a shame not to~

What first caught my eye was the structure of this intense poem of yours. The short lines and lack of space between each of the eight parts added to the restlessness and uncertainty of time, as if all of the trauma is being funnelled down the page – time flowing into time so that it's hard to distinguish when one day begins and another ends. I found this really effective, and rather interesting, since it gives a jolted, time-skip, mind blank element to the poem instead of an easy transition. The reader experiences the same fragmented coping response as the speaker of the poem. The structure is probably one of my favourite aspects of the poem, because it lends itself so well to the content.

I'll be breaking down the poem by addressing each part in order. c:

i.
This beginning is absolutely shocking in the best of ways. There is no gentle introduction into the poem, only the title "During" and a repeated phrase that sinks in line-by-line until it slams with realisation. Oof. More than oof. I mentioned this in the WFP, but your did well with capturing the emotions of each stage as the poem progresses. c:

The repetition feels unconventional, yet the words are not, and I'm fighting myself over whether I would suggest any change here. On one hand, it's straight to the point; there are no poetics here, and there hardly would be in that represented moment. On the other, it seems a little basic; even though it impacts, I kind of saw that repeated phrase coming.

*contemplates*

I like the way it is, I really do, and it's almost like "if it ain't broke, don't fix it", so I'm going to pretend not to suggest anything. Don't change anything. It's great.

(However, I did have this thought that you could maybe try contrasting/juxtaposing each repeated phrase with scattered details of what is actually happening, which could look something like...

This isn’t happening.
_____________________(sticky breath; crawling spider hands)
This isn’t happening.
_____________________(crawling everywhere, between; unzipping)
This isn’t happening.

[bad example but y'know]

... which could give this first part some conflict/tension, but could also diminish the oof of sinking realisation – which is why I'm so clearly unsure. It's also what you feel comfortable with. I'm approaching this from a review standpoint, not so much from a personal one like my comment before. <3)

Wow okay I need to move on from this first part. xD

ii.
Even though the language of this part is also basic, it works. Really well. Especially because it differs to the more poetic language in later parts. I love the last two lines of sleeping a dreamless sleep – that idea captures a lot to me.

iii.

tea you let get cold before you dump it out.

There may be no drugs in you

but your wrists have bled

for the first time in years.

(and its hard enough the bristles turn red),

that coats your cheeks like grime.

no wonder he picked you,

special one,

no wonder it was your turn

to be wounded;

and their intentions clearer

than the starry night sky,

It’s more of a game, you see,

This poem of yours, Clouldkid, actually made exactly two tears spill from my eyes. And of that was your goal then you did well! This was a very emotional poem that I can FEEL. You wrote this poem out so well that I could FEEL your pain (Is that creepy? I think that's creepy...).

~Liberty500

Hallo! I’m here to review this! Okay so I actually really like this poem, and I feel like you threw a lot of emotion and effort into this poem. Which makes me automatically like it. The only critique I have is I think it was a little long for a poem, and I wish it were a few lines shorter. But it doesn’t have to be. I can’t really think of much else.. You are really good at creating poems, and I really mean that. Your poem didn’t rhyme but still for the most part it flowed, overall, fantastic job! I hope to see more of your work!!


~CAKEEEEEE~ (sorry that this review was kind of short, love the poem!)