Chaos
embroiders the world on a daily basis; it somehow manages to creep into
our lives like a newborn snake, slowly and deadly. Most of us consider
Chaos to be blood melting pink in the snow, mass hysteria; people
running and screaming, bodies lying twisted on the floor of the
pavement. But, it has another definition too. Chaos can also be when
you lose all sense of yourself, when you're not in control of your own
life, your own body, your own actions, what you think or do. When you
feel powerless, empty inside.
Guys, I wasn't asking for constructive criticism. I really don't even think it needs editing. I used this for an opening on this autobiography thing I wrote on another site. This is a poem that I was proud of then, still proud of now. If I change the format, I think I'll just hate it. So, I wont. And, I know, it doesn't flow like a poem. But it's still that: A poem. I've had this for awhile now and when I'm proud of something, I don't change it. But thanks, anyways. [:
My Review
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This is more like prose. To enhance it's poem like qualities, change the format. It'll help it flow a eensey teensey little bit. This would be a great prologue to a story about self destruction, eating disorders, cutting, or depression. It is slightly spiritual, good but it needs some work. Keep editing!
This is more like prose. To enhance it's poem like qualities, change the format. It'll help it flow a eensey teensey little bit. This would be a great prologue to a story about self destruction, eating disorders, cutting, or depression. It is slightly spiritual, good but it needs some work. Keep editing!
Hey. I used to be on here alot when I was 15. Now, not so much. I'm 18 now and I'm not nearly as depressing as I used to be, but still depressing enough. Message me and feel free to read my old poems... more..