no human body permitted to treat me the way i beg **
i beg for dry roasted coffee shoved down my throat
i beg for pricks of needles on my spine till my back is a bloody mess
and when my pelvis is rearranged
and my soul is sucked dry
will i truly feel the vigour of being alive?
but i would leave my wounds to rot
and the blood to cake on mud
for what good is feeling much but having nothing to show?
i am real, i am flesh
i feel harder than the rest
but with pain in my veins, will i ever reach my best?
and now my hair is thin and weak
and my legs are now twigs
i wait for them to snap
for then my hurt will be free
free for the world to see
perhaps then, i will let my body be
** this line is borrowed from the song "Muse" by Sofia Isella. credits to her.
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139,202 Literary Works • 672,505 Reviews
Hello Majuli,
Let's dive into this poem review. It has been a long time since I last did one.
"No human body permitted to treat me the way I beg,
I beg for dry-roasted coffee shoved down my throat,
I beg for pricks of needles on my spine till my back is a bloody mess,
and when my pelvis is rearranged,
and my soul is sucked dry,
will I truly feel the vigour of being alive?"
There are minor grammatical errors that need improvement, but nothing drastic.
Permission to be granted, permission to be warranted, craved, begged, pleaded on bitter words and blood, you desire to feel the warmth of living. The feeling of being consumed, to be ravaged upon a bitter end, and feel something, but no living soul has the authority to bring the feeling of being alive to your skin, so you resort to hand-fed measures, your own.
"But I would leave my wounds to rot,
and the blood to cake on mud,
for what good is feeling much but having nothing to show?"
The lack of care, to leave wounds to rot, to leave blood to clot, a sweet nature to the mud, but lacking substance in how you got that way. You fought a battle with no physical enemy, just your own hands against your own flesh. Is it self-craved punishment? And escape to what you believe you lack?
"I am real, I am flesh,
I feel harder than the rest,
but with pain in my veins, will I ever reach my best?"
You wonder if the pain limits your presence in nature, your evolution toward perfection. Your pain, while self-inflicted to feel vital, does not make it any less real, nor does it take away that ever-reaching nature of something that barely escapes your hands.
"Now my hair is thin and weak,
and my legs are now twigs,
I wait for them to snap,
for then my hurt will be free
free for the world to see
perhaps then, I will let my body be."
Persistence. So much so that your very efforts gave you the fruit of your labor, the constant taking of your own essence. The blood you spilt to the ground, the bitter tastes in your mouth, the needles in your back, your ravaged self has taken its toll on you. You craved permission to live and sold what little you had for that taste. Your body paid the price, the soft nature of you and the strength to continue on left, waiting for the day to give out, so you could ultimately give up. Everyone could see, and now the permission that you were never given is here on sale, and you can finally let go of what you walked miles for.
This was a wonderful poem to start on, with only a few corrections in grammar. I enjoy digesting a poem to understand how I interpret it, and am equally interested in how the writer interprets themselves. The question of emptiness after visceral longing is an anguishing one, for will it truly end when our body does?
Keep writing, dear, it is a way to express what our hands cannot.
"I dance in the rain so no one can tell,
Which drops are sky-born and which are mine."
Love, Hawinay
thank you so much!! i'm sorry, but my interpretation is not to be told.
This reads so fluidly and contrasts nicely against the visceral subject - I adore this! <3
thank you!! >_<
Gosh, what a great poem!! This poem is just so, so raw!! There is so much depth to this, so much deep emotions that are expressed—and its all written here with this poetic quality to the prose that gives emphasis on the depth without making it come across as melodramatic or shallow.
This first line is so insanely catching! It really drew me in so much to the theme around bearing a body despite not feeling the liveliness a body is. These ways of harming your body are quite distinct, debilitate different things which makes them quite interesting when paired up together, regardless of them being stemmed by the same desire (self-harm).
One is more-so pain that's internal and disable the way you speak, while the other is more external and disable the way you walk. It's like the speaker both begging for punishment, but also for how much they're in mental pain to show. To want "pricks of needles" also easily brings the image of someone else doing that harm more than the way of harm—almost giving the meaning that the speaker wishes for others to harm them, and/or to that the speaker wants someone to notice it (since someone doing that action would almost be like actively being aware of how much the speaker wants pain and is mentally unwell)!
To want to feel alive by pain, but to feel alive would mean you would have to bear the pain—but also "feeling alive" isn't enough, if there's nothing to show for it... that's just so much raw vulnerability, and such a powerful way to share that vulnerability. The line "and the blood to cake on mud" also adds to the grittiness of this emotion and the overall poem!!
Here, it's like the speaker is processing that they really are real. But within that process, comes with the overbearing emotion that makes being real so hard to deal with. They're so solidified by the pain they go through, that navigating through life with others hard despite these people being just as real and flesh as much as the speaker.
There's something so real about the speaker acknowledging this pain being their downfall, but still continues to and indulges the thought of self-harm. It's so, so real. This line really does capture the feeling of the awareness that this isn't a great coping mechanism, not good for their life, but still having the lingering desire to indulge in it anyways.
This ending is just so powerful. It expresses so much heaviness!! This poem is really, really great!! I wish you well, and keep writing!!
thank you so much!! i feel like you understood the poem really well. thank you for reviewing!
yw!! im so glad!! you're welcome :>
Hello! It’s CATS here to leave a short review. My eyes are half closed because of how tired I am so I apologize that it’s going to be a short one. Let’s dive in!
This talks deeply about SH and loving your own body. I recommend maybe labelling it as 12+ or something for mature content if you haven’t already. But it sounds really interesting and maybe even help teens through hard times!
I am a bit confused with the rhyme pattern, but that’s just me. The pain the narrator must’ve been through!
The descriptions are so vivid and clear and I ask you keep up your great imaginative mind!!! I love how you pour so much effort and emotions into this.
Overall this was really great and interesting to read and can’t wait to hear more from you!
Happy EVERYTHING!!
Love，
CATS
thank you so much!! how do i change the age rating? please help. thank you for reviewing!!
Press on edit options and at the bottom there is an age rating
Very deep to say the least
thank you!!