Published August 7, 2010
I stare out my window,
My single, broken window.
Around me people stand,
Talking, smiling, laughing.
They stand on the other side of their windows,
Their clear, perfect windows.
Not a crack, nor a scratch,
How easy it is to understand them.
Every feeling, every emotion, understandable at a glance.
My window is different,
Cracked, scratched, changed.
They shun me from their perfect world,
Afraid of who I could be.
The image they see, is not me.
The image they see, is what they want me to be.
A pawn in their game, whom they hope to change.
With their clarity blocked, the image is contorted.
Their images are all the same.
Striving to be seen and hoping to be heard.
Among the millions of fixed little windows,
I stand, not alone, staring out my window.
My simply complicated, broken window.
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.
Oh, god, in response to this poem (I had to write it, I'm so very sorry):
I think I liked your poem so much I had to write one as a reply. And from a different view. 
My window may look so very clear,
it may look perfect and pretty,
like an unflawed diamond crystal.
But when you stand behind, you see,
what counts as the true me.
You think I am easy to understand,
that I smile, talk and laugh.
And think that I stereotype you,
as the one who is not as I.
Though the truth is, you're only seeing the surface,
not looking out from my in.
My mask may look so very happy and un-unique.
Like a single flower in the spring,
you do not see the rotting roots,
or the poison in my stem.
The cracks and splinters in my window,
Are only visible to me.
So when you look my way,
You only see the pretty glass.
AGAIN! I'm sorry. This is the reponse I have for you...
Hello! I really like this poem! The only thing wrong I could find is a few comas that don't need to be there...
Neither of those comas are need and removing them makes the lines read better. When you are adding coma's, go back and read over your work and when you see a coma, you pause. So while re-reading delete any comas that seem to cause an unnatural pause...
~Rain~
Hi! Thanks!

Hmm...I understand what you mean and you're right. If I changed it, it would be a little better, wouldn't it?
Ha, that was my favorite part too!
Yes, I did mean to put that oxymoron in.
Thanks for the review!
~mybrokenreality
Hi Mybrokenreality! Welcome to the Young Writers' Society, if I haven't welcomed you already.
I like very much the concept of this poem. However, it could get a bit repetitious. Try to think of different words than "cracked" and "scratched"; perhaps "flawed," "dented," or "faded."
These lines are undoubtedly the best of the piece. They are beautiful. Don't change a thing about them. (I love the chess reference.)
Anyway, nice job! Happy writing!
"Simply complicated" is an oxymoron. Nothing can be simply complicated or complicatedly simple. They contradict each other. Was this what you wanted? Oxymorons are fine to have in poetry, but only if the poet knows they're there.