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The Cutting Floor

 

 

Dressed in my funeral best
I’m sent to the cutting floor.

Alongside the orangish glow of the furnace
my sensibilities are lost
my freedoms are taken
and my lifeblood washed away.

In this cool sterile place
I am prepared
for the swaggering glorification
that everyone deems so important.

Yet I am lost
me who was me
separated from all my self worth
remaining only a pretty trophy
to be gazed upon in sorrow.

 

 

— Howlinginpain, Mar 09, 2008

Critiques

P

poewriter58

18 years 4 months ago

welcome

confusing your first line dressed in my funeral best I am sent to the cutting floor well if you already prepared for your funeral why then the rest of the poem perhaps dress in my etc could be your last sentence and I'm sent to the cutting floor your first orange like glow or orange glow would work better here my life blood washed leaving the and off the beginning of this sentence would work and still maintain the thought what if you were to consider this That the living deem important Yet I have lost the self that was I separated from all self worth merely suggestions on smoothing the edges only for your consideration and not written in stone I've retained your original words just polished them a bit the basic idea of the poem is good but it is very choppy Chrys

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