The sky is just breaking twilight. The cool air leaves goose bumps all over my skin, its quiet as I lay in the grass, far away from civilization. The grass is taller than me, and it makes me feel even more alone. I take a deep breath and my lungs are pleased with this clean fresh air, that I take another. It’s too quiet I think to myself, and with that thought I let out the most horrific scream, so horrific that I woke up all the little creatures in this field. Above my head birds fly out of the grass, I hear a dog bark in the distance and the slam of screen doors as a worrying neighbor runs out to see if everyone’s all right. After time, the neighbor goes back inside, the birds settle down back into their grass, and the dog lays his head down on the cool cement. While I lay here, alone. Because the truth is, I’m not all right.
i also have no clue what this is ! But thank god adjectives exist so I can begin to describe !
Captivating - When you can grab the reader's attention and not let go until the very end, that means you have skill. After a second read, I can really appreciate your rhymes.
My favorite lines are the two opening ones; a well painted canvas.
I found this to be a bit vague but I gather the theme of confusion and doubt. Just one thing that is niggling at me: You say that she is far from civilisation, yet it is implied that she is close to a neighbourhood, what with the mention of the screen door and the worried neighbour. Just a thought. (:
Impressionist painters went out into what they painted, felt it change, sat with it, dined with it and then felt they knew it enough to paint it. Some kept painting the same scene over and over. Some took what they experienced back to the studio and recreated the sensations there.
Experimentation is good. It's interesting you stopped where you did. Let it rest a while and then come back and see what the piece tells you. Great painting though.
I like this. At the beginning it's such a serene feeling, like she's just taking time to think to herself and figure things out, but then she realizes that she doesn't want to think about it, so she screams to get rid of everything. And then she realizes that she isn't all right, no matter how many times she says that to her friends and family.
That's what I got. It's beautiful. And for some reason I really like these little type of story poem things, or whatever they're called. If you figure out what it's called, let me know, this was really pretty though. Thanks for sharing.
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Hey, my names Brittany and im pretty easy going, i love reading which is probably the main reason i love to write. Anyw.. more..