Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for mature content.
*This is a poem that I'm debating to enter into my CRW 205 class for my portfolio. Any critiques are appreciated*. Where they will bury me Will be for the likes of a Queen. Flowers will line my grave, And onlookers will believe The story of the troubled girl, who didn’t know her left From her right, the poor girl With a chaotic mind. Eventually they’ll all leave, until All that’s left are the groundskeepers And their shovels, Piling their dirt atop of me Like it is their second Nature—I can feel each gravel plummet, Hitting my bones, causing me to rattle Beneath my grave of flowers, scents Of decay from those beside me Surrounding me within that bubble Of despair I know all too well —Though nobody seems to notice. I am nothing but a rickety, Haunted house That nobody wants to visit, But when they do It only feels like the neighbourhood Kids daring the others to ring The doorbell. My Brain is at war And I’m not really sure who’s winning, And I’m sure I’ll be notified Once it’s convenient, But for now they’ll say that Mel was such a beauty, As if to say that beauty is not just A societal concept, generalised With Snapchat selfies and Instagram posts, And their Facebook walls and Twitter feeds— They never mattered anyway. I am an anomaly, That scarred myself With swords To see if the pain Of life was worth it, Just to die in a hole In the ground 8 decades From now. Maybe it was not the swords That really scarred me, But rather my own mind. Nobody really knows Its capabilities (that is, until It goes too far), insanity Determined by the society That will bury us all, 10 feet Deep, And The truth is, I will Be buried alive In a grave that is cool, Dark, and damp. The newly placed dirt, Seeping through The sides of my jet- black coffin, just like The other night When I couldn’t get Everything out of my head. Maybe, this way, it’s for the best. Nevertheless, I will be pounding at the coffin’s Walls, hoping, screaming—begging for you to listen, But everyone has earplugs in To block us out, So I die gradually, Slowly, as my pleas are drowned Out by the groundskeepers That keep piling that dirt atop my Grave. I reconcile, laying motionless, Like a resigned man on Death Row, Waiting for his heart to finally Stop.
Points:
Time spent:
IP address:
Canary word: Present
Possible AI signals:
Original Text:
Are you sure you want to delete this comment? This cannot be undone.
Mark this comment as a review? Points will be awarded to the poster.
Your comment was posted, but it wasn’t long enough to count as a review. Reviews need about four complete sentences (at least 250 characters). Try writing another review that explains your thoughts in more detail — the author will appreciate it, and you’ll earn points for it.
139,585 Literary Works • 672,611 Reviews
Hey there, Ethan here for another review,
A well written poem here, one I can relate to all too well. I loved the symbolism of the grave, the way you kept repeating it to mean slightly different things was interesting, particularly so at the end, where you were talking about how living is like being buried alive. An incredibly well written piece.
I don't have anything to really give constructive criticism on, but you were asking on our thoughts about putting it into your creative writing portfolio? I'd say defiantly yes.
Like I said, wonderful poem, and keep up the good work!
This is so true. What an amazing poem
Hey, it's Gigi here with a review just for Y. O. U. !!!!!!
I have one word for this poem.
WOAH.........
Let me start off by saying i LOVED the format of the poem. You did amazing on that it was perfect.
"My Brain is at war
And I’m not really sure who’s winning,
And I’m sure I’ll be notified
Once it’s convenient,
But for now
they’ll say that"
Wow........
Your poem was so deep! It described what I used to feel like when I was depressed, so I have an emotional connection.
Mel was such a beauty,
As if to say that beauty is not just
A societal concept, generalised
With Snapchat selfies and Instagram posts,
And their Facebook walls and Twitter feeds—
They never mattered anyway.
This part was GREAT!!!! I loved that you captured the essence of what social media does to people! You did an amazing job!!!
Keep Shining, Keep writing!
With love
~Gigi!
vHello!!
It gives me a good visual of what you're trying to share.
I just read your poem here! I love the imagery and companions you use in it
My favorite verse is this part here:
I am nothing but a rickety,
Haunted house
That nobody wants to visit,
But when they do
It only feels like the neighbourhood
Kids daring the others to ring
The doorbell.
I love the comparison to yourself to a empty haunted house
Mel was such a beauty,
As if to say that beauty is not just
A societal concept, generalised
With Snapchat selfies and Instagram posts,
And their Facebook walls and Twitter feeds—
They never mattered anyway.
For me this part is a little confusing, I see that you're trying to comment on society's beauty standards but not sure what exactly. If you could find a way to reword it like the haunted house line I think it would flow a lot better. Good luck!
.
.
Amazing