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DOMESTIC VIOLENCE

Two years gone honey;
All I have left is a photo of you and me,
In this cell beaming to the sky,
From this concrete remorse cry.

But our lives look so perfect on a picture
Now we'll admit we rue the texture.
The perfection of a carbonated print staring,
From scrawny memories, aged from youthful glee
Highlights the chemical we were lacking
As we plunged the fertile branches from our family tree.

Our sun burnt out since our son died,
It's you I wanted to stab;
Not a blameless child to take a nab
With a knife, from life exiled.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
This is aa Sonnet dedicated to a neighbor in prison who killed his son in a fight with his wife who cheated on him
Editing stage: 

Comments

A ripper, dangerous, a confessional I suppose ….well done!

if true to bad
so sad

what a sad story, and difficult to pull off in a sonnet form. Does it matter if a 14 line sonnet does not follow any consistency in meter or rhyme scheme? Some would say yes, I'm not sure.

The last stanza-

Our sun burnt out since our son died,
It's you I wanted to stab;
Not a blameless child to take a nab
With a knife, from life exiled.

I would not repeat sun/son in the same sentence.
I would not state the fact of the event, but attack the event with all its insanity,
passion, madness, with your own passion. This is a very violent, horrific event, a man so impassioned with jealousy as to lose control and by accident kill a son...
There needs to be madness, rage, and lamentation that screams in the guts.
We have often seen that power in your writing, I think in this terrible fate you need to
raise the bar, and let us feel the incredible grief of this event.

Eumolpus
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

Sun/ son was a deliberate use of pun. But I will certainly look into giving more details and ignore making it a Sonnet

Hommies

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