Young Writers Society

This is a little dark, but very true, painful, real feelings. So be kind as far as content goes:


One time I watched a chipmunk die
All I did was laugh
I cackled, gasped, on the brink of tears
Desiring a similar fate

My soul deserves a rest from life
Even if it has to be squeezed
Concern grows every time I speak
I'm tired of this; leave me alone

Death is lovely, I've always thought
No bullshit when it comes
Here I am trapped in this hollow world
Buried in slow burning hell

Down the hall I trudge, staring at lockers
I’d have gladly climbed in Davy Jones’s
But only the same old gray blocks of metal
Few good things come of school

I see some girls I know and flash them a slight smile
They wave and turn around, a fit of giggles emit, something about SNL
What's that? It's me, I know it, damn it!
But in hindsight maybe it wasn't

There's no escape from these morbid thoughts with death always at my ear
I run to this boy I know whom I burden with this craze
We talk it out, and then it's done, he runs to a counselor
Oh, no Sir, he misunderstood, it was just one shitty day

I'm sorry I tell you this, I say to one of those girls
No, it's ok, we're friends, she says, but you really need more self-esteem
Met with a blank stare and a cock of the head, I wonder, “Weren't you listening?”
With all the teenage suicides I expected you to get it

Rain was once a comfort, but as I watch through the glass
I'd run around for hours in the sweet drizzle
But rain here smells like ash
Burned from the acid air

I open up a window in mid afternoon
In the cafeteria, those girls wonder where I am
Forget school, forget tests, and all the students too
Believe me, I really don't feel well

Breath escapes me, I lie on the floor
My lifeless body splays out on the carpet
Wind whistles at the pane
Away my soul floats with it

Above this dying town, above the empty branches
Unburdening has let me soar so much farther than before
I catch myself smiling, and gosh it's been awhile
I'm gone, I'm done, I'm free of the before

Hey there, Klotrox!

I’m going to be quick with this, but I definitely want to give you some food for thought when you go back through this with a scalpel. So, in a strange way, I did like this in all its simplistic narrative and prosaic tones. It meanders a bit around its own point, but ultimately gives it…but not quite strongly enough. I’m a fan of the ultimate foreshadowing in stanza one and the completion of death in the final stanza, but between the two points is where I have my struggles.

First off, your flow is clunky in several places, and can quickly be repaired by reading over your piece aloud. Do so in a quiet room alone with no noises. The way the words roll should come like ocean water and leave like smoke between teeth. And while I said it can be quickly repaired, flow is really something I agonize over in poetry—it’s one of my pet peeves if done incorrectly, and I appreciate nothing more than fluidity in poetry.

That said, let’s move on to content. Between stanzas one and seven, you stumble through these ideas—normal progression of thought for a teenage girl suffering with depression, I suppose—and explore bits of her mind, but nothing’s really original. Lucky creature to die, girls are laughing at me, things are not enjoyable as they used to be, and then she dies. But I do like the end of stanza five, when she says, “Believe me, I really don’t feel well.” It just hit me like nothing else in this poem. Something lyrical and candid about it made me smile. Or not, since it was a sad emotion. But I enjoyed it.

So with things like the hallway scene and the image of rain, I’d really like to see some tightening and freshening of your ideas. I think you have a firm foundation here, so I want you to build upon it like mad.

I hope this helps.

-Lumi

I'm seconding everything Lumi said, especially with respects to the firm foundation and flow issues. There's a genuineness, a genuineness that's quite brutal at times, to this poem that makes it stand out. However, the true potential of this poem is held back by technical issues.

One thing that majorly contributed to the flow issues was the inconsistent punctuation. A technique I find useful is to rewrite my poem in regular prose form; if it still makes sense and flows well, all's fine and dandy. If it doesn't, I find it's sometimes a bit easier to pinpoint why it doesn't flow when it's in prose form versus poem. And as Lumi mentioned, reading your poem aloud is a surefire way of catching snags in the flow.

In addition to the flow issues, you also had issues of spelling, most obviously in the first stanza, and more importantly, in the first line. Considering your first line is the first thing your readers see, you need to ensure that it draws your readers in rather than kicks them out before they've even truly begun. The misspelling of "chipmunk" in this case is a rather nasty boot to your readers' rears, and the misspelling of "soul" just adds to the oomph of the kick.

If you tidy up the technical aspects of this, tighten things a bit more, this could really be an excellent piece.