z

Young Writers Society



And hold your breath... one minute, two minute and your DEAD

by Manga Angel Spirit


And hold your breath... one minute, two minute and your dead

The smell of you fills me
Your touch the kiss of an angel
Yet I can’t even reach out to you
And when I do…


I think that what I said is going over my head
I’m drowning in this moment
I scream for you to save me from myself
But you just stand there unaware

Throw me a rope or lifeline to stop me condemning myself
Cut off my words before they pass the point of no return
But you just let these words stream from my throat to your ears
And hear what you had never wanted to hear

You leave me hanging here, your silence like sharpened needles
Holding on by a strand, swinging in this twilight
With those words you let me fall into nothingness
And forever shall I spiral down

I lie at the bottom of your heart, bleeding from my chest
With the skeletons of your lovers surrounding me
Like a vial filling with deathly perfume you fill your heart
Crushing the Misfit Prince with black love

You never gave me a second chance
Never a glimpse of true love
Only baiting me with lies
And drawing me in with fake hearts


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18 Reviews


Points: 890
Reviews: 18

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Thu May 31, 2007 6:48 pm



thankies, ill use that =)
with the 'pass the point of now retur' thats when a helicopter or plance cant turn back to its original take off place, saying that ive said to much to turn back, that i have to carry on.
Thnkies all, Ethan




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2058 Reviews


Points: 32885
Reviews: 2058

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Thu May 31, 2007 2:19 pm
Emerson wrote a review...



Since Kitty commented on your lack of punctuation, I'll get to that first. You need to punctuate. Poetry & Punctuation.

This poem felt like it was going way too fast for me, and like it was giving me half worked metaphors.

I’m drowning in this moment
this isn't exactly cliché, but I still have a feeling you could write something better. "drowning" in any emotion, or thing, that isn't water is just a common thing everything else uses to describe stuff.

Cut off my words before they pass the point of no return
Now, this is a cliché, straight from Phantom of the Opera, none the less. Half the time when I see people use clichés I wonder if they even know what they mean, or if they are just using them because it sounds cool and it seems to fit where they are putting them.

You leave me hanging here, your silence like sharpened needles
I think you could be more visual, and better with this line. Not the actual line, but what follows it and what you do with the imagery. What are those sharpened needles doing? This is why I say we have half done metaphors. You say the silence is like needles (And are needles ever sharpened? The only prick, really.) but are those needles doing anything? Sowing agony over your heart? Jabbing you in the feet, making you want to run? See where I'm going? You try.

This poem was also really navel gazing, and I didn't get any feeling from it. With poetry, you want your reader to feel the same thing that you are feeling, that is why you write the poem. Not to express your emotions, but to share them. This article might help you: Emotional Poetry.

Best of luck.




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2631 Reviews


Points: 6235
Reviews: 2631

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Thu May 31, 2007 2:06 pm
Rydia wrote a review...



I don't think the title really fits this poem. I actually found it rather blunt and if you are keeping it, the 'your' should be you're.

Other than that, I was really annoyed by the lack of punctuation in this piece. The language and content are both really beautiful but you need more commas and full stops. Here's where I would put them...

I think that what I said is going over my head;
I’m drowning in this moment.
I scream for you to save me from myself
But you just stand there, unaware.

Throw me a rope or lifeline to stop me condemning myself,
Cut off my words before they pass the point of no return
But you just let these words stream from my throat to your ears
And hear what you had never wanted to hear.

You leave me hanging here, your silence like sharpened needles,
Holding on by a strand, swinging in this twilight.
With those words you let me fall into nothingness
And forever shall I spiral down.

I lie at the bottom of your heart, bleeding from my chest,
With the skeletons of your lovers surrounding me.
Like a vial filling with deathly perfume you fill your heart,
Crushing the Misfit Prince with black love.

You never gave me a second chance,
Never a glimpse of true love.
Only baiting me with lies
And drawing me in with fake hearts.





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Look, a good poem is a poem that exists. Any poem you write is better than the poem you don't.
— WeepingWisteria