This is a poem that I wrote very late one night, but it ended up being one of my better peices. I would love to hear some feedback, positive and negative, and since all my writing is tool influenced and since the people that post here are some of the most interesting people I have found on the net I decided to put it up here.
Anyway here goes....
Into depression’s eyes I stare
Receiving that vacant glare
That resides everywhere
Always looking, trying to care
True feelings never there
Not understanding my dilemma
My plight
A mass of darkness covers my life
A darkness heavy of weight
With no one to help
To understand
I cannot deal with their day-to-day
My day-to-days full of sadness
Masked by a wall of insecurities
Hollow and weak
If your eyes could shed light
Light on my life
The walls would surely crack
Enough to hint at what is there
Behind the wall juxtaposed me and you
You chip away at the wall
Wishing to see my eyes again
To communicate
To bring me back
To the other side
That side which I miss
Your world filled with such bliss
You crack though now and then
But the light burns
So bright
So bright it blinds
Things return to the blackness
The black of the wall surrounds me
Suffocates my screams
Day in and day out
Even when I try to shout
You can’t hear me though the wall
The wall I so hate
Began to break
Showing through its true fate
Slowly it started to fall
Anticipation of your face behind the wall
Black turns into red
Anticipation into rage
For the wall fell to reveal a mirror
And into hell’s mirror I gazed
Watching my eyes fill with rage
A rage inside of me blazed
Till’ I awake in front of my mirror
Longing for your eyes
Eyes that cool my fire
With love’s cool water
In your eye’s I use to bathe
But now without you
I am set ablaze by my eyes forever
PS if you like this, or you are intrigued, I posted another poem about repression earlier, and would love to here your feedback on it.
I'm here to chew bubble gum and criticize, and guess what . . . I'm all outa bubble gum.
I think your poem has good intentions yet, in all honesty it falls apart on itself. Why? Because it doesn't have any structure or rythem to it. It's all over the place. This kind of free style might have worked if the poem was a little shorter, but with such lengthy content, it needs structure to allow the reader the ability to actually appreciate what you are saying.
Remember something. Most work done is only done once it has been revivised four times, more or less.
__________________ "The eagle never lost so much time as when he succumbed to learn from the crow" - Dead Man
