A/N: The title's a pun. See if you can spot the double meaning! =)
My garden is a tiled cubicle;
a stained-glass picture
of botched up colours.
My sandbox is a tub,
not filled with sand,
but the runaway contents of my stomach.
My reflection is a shattered remain;
a distorted lump of tissue
on pallid, paper skin.
I lean against the fragile walls;
they feel as though they are made of glass.
And I am the frail marionette
that life strung half-way to the ceiling
and forgot about.
My insides shove me -- why are they so cruel?
And I retch, and I breathe, and I try not to scream.
My insides hiss, and writhe, and cry.
I am a waterfall
drip drip dripping
onto the ground.
This is my playground
where the memories live.
Like a pendulum swinging
back and forth.
And if I try,
I can hear them
singing.
"Oh, please don't bully Mia,
she's having trouble at home.
I hear her Pa ditched her Ma
for some ex-fiancee in Rome."
(Lies.)
"Oh, please don't bully Mia,
her boyfriend broke her heart.
Though with her prudish ways she should've
known it from the start."
(Breaking.)
There is blood on my lips.
It tastes more iron than copper.
There is blood on the floor.
And the sink.
And the walls.
I try to pretend it's just the paintwork
but I know it's not true.
"Oh, please don't bully Mia,
her mom's a drunken mess.
Her grade's are dropping faster.
She's broken down -- she won't confess."
(Reality.)
"Oh, please don't bully Mia,
her mom died yesterday.
It wasn't 'cause of her liver
but all the bills she couldn't pay."
(Please someone help me.)
My skin has started to fray
and my bones are brittle and coarse.
I am made from rubber; my flesh
is but a stringy anorak.
I think it's made of broken hopes.
I think it's made of forgotten dreams.
It's made of see-saws and icicle towers,
and slides that time broke
to smithereens.
The decay spills out again.
My knuckles clutch my sides.
My carcass-ed frame drops to the ground
as I curl up and cry.
Like a pendulum swinging
back and forth.
This is the playground
where my memories live.
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139,536 Literary Works • 672,600 Reviews
Bully Mia... bulimia...?
Yay! I shall now proceed to give you a cookie for getting it right!
Spoiler
You used all these words in such a competent, concrete way. The images are just astounding, and I love the clever title.
This was a very sad poem addressing a very sad subject, but you gave it the respect it deserves.
One of my favorite details was how you expressed this as her "playground," which makes it all the more tragic, like this is where she spent her time.
I'm not quite sure why some parts are italicized and some are not, but whatever.
The only suggestion I have would be to find parts that are very nearly the same in the descriptions, such as perhaps some of the details in the 13th stanza? It gets a bit long, but it's still readable. So I wouldn't highly recommend that, maybe just lightly recommend?
Ooh something else. I'm not sure how to advise you an this, but some of the emotion that you describe, while it's beautiful in the images, I can't actually /feel/. I'm not sure if you get what I'm getting at here, but maybe just some more relatable emotion? I dunno. It's pretty good as it is.
One more thing
I don't like the word carcass-ed. It just seems not to fit. Maybe emaciated would be better? I dunno.
Great job! Keep writing!
~fortis
I didn't think this sucked. It's so....touching. To me, it sounds as if she's on the verge of killing herself.
First off I agree with TakeThatYouFiend when they said " I liked the switching between rhyming and spoken rhythm, because it shows that you didn't not rhyme just because you couldn't be bothered.
I am not going to pretend I fully understood it, but I get the jist.
The name (Mia) seemed a little strange and outlandish: I don't know if that is a device to portray her a solitary or simply because it is more common where you are.
The last so lines were SO creepy! "This is the playground where the memories live": Brilliant!
This is a lovely poem, keep it up!
Take That You Fiend!"
Also I enjoyed this ebcuase unlike bulling poems which are over used and normally cliché you managed to make an overused topic in your your own idea and made it work. I like how you did ( breaking) ( lies) because it really makes it stic kto the reader and make the reader enjoy the poem even more well don
Hello Dorapomp!
I liked the switching between rhyming and spoken rhythm, because it shows that you didn't not rhyme just because you couldn't be bothered.
I am not going to pretend I fully understood it, but I get the jist.
The name (Mia) seemed a little strange and outlandish: I don't know if that is a device to portray her a solitary or simply because it is more common where you are.
The last so lines were SO creepy! "This is the playground where the memories live": Brilliant!
This is a lovely poem, keep it up!
Take That You Fiend!
There's a double meaning behind the poem. >.< The title's a pun. Here's a hint: her playground's tiled.
Oh, and thanks for the like and the review!
This poem is so beautiful. You followed the golden rule of literature, do not tell, show.
You've showed me what it's like to be Mia. And the use of the stanzas in italics, repetition and rhythm made the whole poem speak to me like no other.
My insides shove me -- why are they so cruel?
And I retch, and I breathe, and I try not to scream.
My insides hiss, and writhe, and cry.
I am a waterfall
drip drip dripping
onto the ground.
^That stanza struck me.
Great read.
thank you so much!