Published September 25, 2005
Hate
I grabbed the razor in my hand,
Slid it slowly across my wrist.
Blood slid down my arm,
As I studied it with bliss.
The pain's too great,
I'm full of hate.
I'm much too weak to go on.
I'm much too infelicitous.
I grab a rag; place it on my arm,
And lay down in my bed.
I cry myself to sleep,
Full of hate and dread.
I wake up the next morning,
Feeling torn and confused.
I run up to my mom,
To tell of my abuse.
She promises to get me help,
With tears running down her face.
Knowing I'm not alone,
I now have no more hate.
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141,613 Literary Works • 675,159 Reviews
It began SUPERBLY but the ending did'nt work out that well.
the first two stanzas were very strong and i can really relate it to myself at times though i've never tried slicing myself.
OK, this has potential, but it jumps too quickly from the cutting to telling the mother what the subject has been doing. Why did that person tell on themself? Why were they cutting in the first place? I think your poem should answer those questions because as a reader, I was thoroughly confused at the end of your poem.
Also, try and avoid having a rhyming phrase followed by no rhyming at all.
The pain's too great,
I'm full of hate.
I'm much too weak to go on.
I'm much too infelicitous.
It just doesn't work. However, I think your poem is going in the right direction and could have more of an effect if you elaborate a bit more. Good work.
Perhaps a different word, not bliss. Bliss doesn't seem to portray exactly what you want.
I felt really stupid, because I had no idea what in the world that word was, so I actually had to look it up, but when I saw the meaning, I realized it was a pretty good choice. However, when the speaker says "I'm much too weak to go on." It doesn't seem to match with the poem later on. But if you relate it to a sudden urge to tall someone, to get help, then you're ok.
I love this stanza, very simplistic, full of emotion and imagery, and simply awesome.
The first two lines here are fine, but the next two have a sudden shift that doesn't make sense, unless you tie it in with the line from the second stanza I told you about. Then everything would fall into place.
This is another sudden shift. What happened that you know you're not alone? Why do you not have any more hate? You went from complete hatred to total peace. It's confusing and throws off the reader.
Overall, I loved your poem, but with these slight changed you might have a bestseller. Being a writer means writing, re-writing, and re-writing. A true writer doesn't get the whole poem right out of the bat. It takes several tries to reach your poems full potential. Just keep trying and keep writing, and you'll get there.