standing_alone
Well-Known Member
Yeah, so it's late, I'm tired, I'm not thinking clearly, and I'm bored, so I thought, "What the heck! I'll post one of my crappy poems to get some 'constructive' criticism." So yeah, I think it'd be cool if you guys could give me some feedback on what I should do to improve my writing - and feel more than free to do it without mercy. I can take it. Also, ask any questions about stuff you don't understand or want to know what I intended by. This poem's crap, so I'm sorry to all of you who actually read it. (Just for a note: Ranger Hall is the name of the dormatories at my university where I obviously live).
The Ranger Hall Revelation
Sitting on a lonely bench outside Ranger Hall,
Humid, hot October 5, 2005,
I light a cigarette, sick of it all,
Wishing for death, not totally alive;
I watch the paper burn back,
Revealing the cancer within,
I look down at my cigarette pack,
Lucky Strike, what truth, what wisdom;
I too want to burn back my paper,
Let loose the pain of my cancer,
Watch the smoke curl like vapor,
Searching for truth, for an answer.
I let the smoke go to my head,
Numb away the turmoil and pain.
Earlier I felt like a phantom,
Knowing only that no one knows my name;
Earlier I knew I was only a shape,
Nothing solid, just some steam.
Now I have this desire to escape,
To make myself come clean.
Now I dont feel anything,
The smoke icing the heat,
And I watch all the mistakes Ive made
Suddenly repeat.
I light another cigarette,
So its come to this,
I use a substance to forget
The angst that writhes in me.
Im a coward, Im afraid,
Too scared to hope for love,
Now I just want to trade
This for the sky above.
I light another, this makes three,
How the third is supposed to be the charm,
But deep down I know Ill never be free,
Because all I know is self-harm.
I only know how to sabotage
Anything that brings healing,
I live life merely as a mirage,
Ill never feel my paper peeling;
And so I cower back to my dorm,
A cell amongst everyone elses paradise.
I hug myself to stay warm,
And crack open another vice.
Sorry for making you go through that. Feel free to tear it apart.
The Ranger Hall Revelation
Sitting on a lonely bench outside Ranger Hall,
Humid, hot October 5, 2005,
I light a cigarette, sick of it all,
Wishing for death, not totally alive;
I watch the paper burn back,
Revealing the cancer within,
I look down at my cigarette pack,
Lucky Strike, what truth, what wisdom;
I too want to burn back my paper,
Let loose the pain of my cancer,
Watch the smoke curl like vapor,
Searching for truth, for an answer.
I let the smoke go to my head,
Numb away the turmoil and pain.
Earlier I felt like a phantom,
Knowing only that no one knows my name;
Earlier I knew I was only a shape,
Nothing solid, just some steam.
Now I have this desire to escape,
To make myself come clean.
Now I dont feel anything,
The smoke icing the heat,
And I watch all the mistakes Ive made
Suddenly repeat.
I light another cigarette,
So its come to this,
I use a substance to forget
The angst that writhes in me.
Im a coward, Im afraid,
Too scared to hope for love,
Now I just want to trade
This for the sky above.
I light another, this makes three,
How the third is supposed to be the charm,
But deep down I know Ill never be free,
Because all I know is self-harm.
I only know how to sabotage
Anything that brings healing,
I live life merely as a mirage,
Ill never feel my paper peeling;
And so I cower back to my dorm,
A cell amongst everyone elses paradise.
I hug myself to stay warm,
And crack open another vice.
Sorry for making you go through that. Feel free to tear it apart.