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Three from me

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Death of Spring

There's an oppression in

"quality of life,"

a relative term.

Who?s to judge

the severity of wanting

to die

and be reborn as someone

good, new.

Renewal and rebirth are the

bright banners of spring.

Wish they?d wrap me up,

just a lump under the carpet.

Until I emerge

as though from a cocoon;

suddenly, a beautiful butterfly.

How crestfallen

to discover

it?s just me,

staring back in confusion.

Why didn?t it work?

Do I have to really (not just metaphorically)


in some long and agonizing way?

To please

all those crazed killers

(and normal folk too),

with every right to hate

what I am.

Will that set me free?

Lies and Dissapointment

Just using you to

wonder what if

I could be better,

transform into

that ideal you seem to see.

I?ve got nothing,

and it?s only getting worse.

Crash down into me,

to find

there was nothing there all along.

Such a huge


never ceases to amaze even the most

altruistic of us.

If only the amazement was the right kind.

If only I was the right kind.

Yet I?m not,

never will be.

Can?t be anything at all,

don?t even exist.

I am a myth,

built up into an identity of


Somewhere along the line,

someone got the mistaken impression that

I am good,


worth something.

It?s all Lies.

Sorry they told you those things.

Sorry you believed them.

Sorry I?m such a


Solitary Consumption

Consume in tandem

with the man

next - to - me - that - I'm - not - with.

In an effort

to appear less alone,

write more than I have in

months of contemplation,

afraid to speak.

I might ruin

more than my own life,

simply by emitting a sound.

The new shift.

I've started a trend of

isolation and awkwardness.

We're all alone,

and I've pushed away

the only one who might've

made me less so.

Because it isn't "right."

What right do I have

to be so descriminating?

A false connoisseur of love.

(edited @ 10:26pm, sorry about the typo!)

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I'm lovin' these poems...they so clearly describe a stage and time in my life, now thankfully behind me. I've managed to slap a veneer of functionality over these feelings, and if i don't look to closely at myself, i can pass for 'normal'.

I particularly liked the last one--"A false connisseur of love" is brilliant.



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  • 1 month later...

thank you! i love constructive, educational criticism. if you wanna go for broke on all of my poems, feel free. i'm always looking to improve my writing.

as for your commentary:

i totally agree/ see what you mean with almost all of what you said (i can't be perfect, can i?).

your suggestions for "paring down" are right on, thank you!

and i think you're right about the word "relative", maybe ambiguous would work, but without changing the word order, just replacing.

i think you're right about the "really die" portion, but i really don't know what to do with it. you say i need to reword it, and i know you're right (i thought so when i posted this) but i just dunno what to do with it. suggestions are welcome, i will continue to ponder it.

thanks again!


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