The excitement of a new anxiousness
A twisting feeling of hope
Soft butterflies
Heart racing
Little whispered words
And small moments cherished
THings that mean nothing
Things that meant the world
A smile granted from a simple salutation
Tripping over my own two feet
Looking down, scared
Hoping the landing is just as good as the fall
Little words
Slowly demolishing these feelings
Mind games
Prodding to make me give in
Holding on with my last bits of strength
My mind can hold
Tiny whimpers, begging for space
Let me live
I take a hammer to the butterflies
Chasing them away
Smashing their beautiful wings, and their hopes held within
These are not my hands
Composed of remnants others have left of the green-eyed monster
In my hand it forces the chase
The butterflies flee in fear
And the tears fall, watching the hands that are not mine destroy their innocence
One year passed, the butterflies took to recover
Now on their return
The force of others minds, the hands not my own, hunt these small beauties
I can only hope their return, surprise would not come if they didn't
Looking at the mess on the emerald grass
Tears steam, slow and warm
This is not my work, I could not do this
But i watched my own hands destroy them
Such delicate creatures
Who would do this to them?
Covered, I am red handed
But this was not my choice
The butterflies returned after a year
Only to be chased away by a person who didn't choose this chase
I can only hope they come back
And i will not give in next time
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125,008 Literary Works • 672,836 Reviews
This looks to be one of those works that you tried to make it sound all artsy because you made something slightly pretty and then decided, "Hey! It's too pretty! I have to make it deep! And what better way to do it than to randomly introduce death into the picture?" After all, death can be a very powerful image, and people randomly killing things for no reason is pretty frightening. However, in this case it's entirely too random to mean anything substantial. To the novice reader, I suppose they can be shocked, but for me, it's really hard to get shocked about some poem that's used a cheap trick to get me shocked. Don't just randomly twist an event and hope that it sounds sufficiently cruel. If you want the shock factor up, make it cruel. Make it brutal. Don't be afraid to be gritty. And then, I think, you'll get the effect that you want.
Best of luck!
This was really good, I liked it.
I liked this paragraph, because of how you put it. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one that can relate to the whole 'I watched my own hands destroy them'. It's really hard to put that and make it sound right, but you did!
Now this paragraph I like, because of you rephrased 'caught red handed.' Then also how you say it's not your choice, and that basically how people feel when something wrong happens.
But I must say that this was my favorite part of all.
I think mainly of 'the green-eyed monster.' It's a paradox how you put monster, yet the green-eyed beauty contradicts it. (When ever I see eye description I always think of beauty (I'm weird like that)).
Anyways I liked it over all. I'm not going to look at your grammar, because I'm horrible at it, but yeah. Anyways I hope that I see more of your work around.