Making things up

She sits in Her room, making up,

 

Creative things?  Destructive things.

 lies to fling,

  weapons to swing.

 

A pile of used relationships in the corner

Little jewled bits of misery, used to adorn her

When she's saved up enough, they'll be weaved

into a cloak

covering her from foot to throat

only her face left to us.

 

To me its a plea.

 

"Please grieve

or

at least emote."

 

 

 

Author's Note

First time being able to format the poem on someone elses PC, so now i can start being more creative with font and arrangment. Not that I think that makes a poem, its still just words, if their crap words its a crap poem :)

Reviews

[Rita L. Sev]

A pile of used relationships in the corner...

Great concept here, Samuel. I like the format, and this is far from being a "crap poem". I have known this person, who does nothing to fix relationships or reconcile with the world around her. She imagines injuries, and broods over them, covering herself in imagined damages... Really good piece!

[Samuel Jack]

Thanks Rita. HA! i didnt mean my poem is crap, i mean a poem prettilly arranged but with crap words, is a crap poem. I feel some people go a little far with presentation instead of substance. Even though some peoples poetry styles go hand in hand with big explosive presentation.

i dunno, poetry. Funny old game aint it.

[Rita L. Sev]

Yep - but you did a great job with words and form - score one for you! :)

[writer in trial]

It's a crap poem.I don't think so. Well i imagined in this way.My imagination never stops. :D
"A pile of used relationships in the corner
Little jewled bits of misery, used to adorn her
When she's saved up enough, they'll be weaved
into a cloak
covering her from foot to throat
only her face left to us."
I remember how mom used to weave sweaters. little by little and finally made it a complete one. Here too i feel the same. This girl is recollecting all the pains from the bunch of her relationships. And slowly by slowly these pains are killing her. Here pains of each relationships are like threads which are finally combined together to form a lump i.e cloak covering from feet to throat means pains in pieces finally chained together to make her more miserable i.e sum of pain in pieces = big pain slowly killing her from top to bottom. Only face is left. I think like these pain has ruined her,but not in total. This face is like last hope of survival here before it kills her completely.

I hope i did justice with your poem. :)

[Samuel Jack]

your did more than justice to my poem Dost. Dhanya-waad!

She leaves her face uncovered to recieve sympathy, but you are right, it is the last part of her you can interact with, so it is her last chance for redemption.

Dhanyavaad!

Aapka

Samuel