Young Writers Society

Hello Hello I hope you dont mind me popping in with a review. I feel this is very rich with details that help paint a scene. If I had to take a guess I would say that this is autobiographical just from the way moments are described. They carry a sense of honesty and being personal that makes it in some way very relatable at times.

There's only one line I want to give feedback on as to me it reads as a tad clunky. "words slithering out & crawling out of their jar" I think the reason it comes off a bit awkward is the use of out twice. Perhaps you could reword it a little ( I am no pro please feel free to mess around with it)like this. " words slithering & crawling out of their jar."

Other than that I really enjoyed a lot of lines it was very vivid and in some senses raw. It does feel like the author put a lot of themselves out there and that is something I have to commend.

keep writing and go drink water!

Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review.

This is such a beautiful work that evokes great feelings of nostalgia for me.

I love how you used all lowercase letters; it seems to make the words appear more youthful.

"walking a tight rope
between here & the sky."

This has to be my favorite part. It elicits a feeling of childlike imagination that I think is extremely poetic.

Overall great job!

Alright, let's cut to the chase.

"April is taken with a grain of salt every year." It's like you've reached into the depths of memory and pulled out the raw, unfiltered truth of adolescence. No sugar-coating, no romanticizing—just the gritty reality of growing up.

Your words hit hard, like a punch to the gut. There's no escaping the weight of your imagery—the off-yellow carpets, the shared dumpsters, the cigarette smoke—they're like scars etched into the landscape of our minds, reminders of a time when life felt like one big uphill battle.

And that wheel of fortune spinning every Sunday? It's not a symbol of hope, it's a desperate plea for stability in a world that's constantly shifting beneath our feet. It's the sound of prayers whispered to a ceiling that feels like it's on the verge of collapse.

But it's your portrayal of adolescence that gets under your skin. Hiding in coat racks, sitting alone at lunch—these aren't moments of vulnerability, they're moments of isolation, of feeling like you're adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

And then there's that imagery of bodies as puppets for the sun, scorched by parking lots. It's poetic—and it's painful. It's the feeling of being trapped in a body that's too small for the dreams you're trying to chase.

But amidst the chaos and uncertainty, there's a longing for grace, for sanctuary. And you've captured it perfectly with those moth-eaten sheets. It's not about finding beauty in imperfection—it's about finding solace in the cracks, in the worn fabric of life itself.

This piece is a gut-wrenching reminder of what it means to grow up. It's not pretty, it's not romantic—but it's real.

This is a beautiful poem and your writing style is also one to appreciate.