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Finally Over Myself

Let me in that outside "box", of yours
it's a place I think sounds quaint,
with my devil-may-care attitude
I'll soon prove that you're no saint;
and that it's your own life you wish to taint.

Mother Goose looks grim through shadows,
Who's your daddy? What's his name?
Why do you waste time trying to prove
everyone else is who's to blame?
Being a mere loudmouth will be your claim to fame!

Never in my wildest dreams
while sowing my wild oats,
have I met an individual
who's missed so many "boats"!
Maybe you should try taking some more notes.

I performed a grand disservice
while servicing your wants and needs,
in my eyes you were a "flower"
in a world made up of weeds;
because of you I own a heart that simply bleeds.

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 the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
Editing stage: 


I can't see anything wrong with pacing, maybe i'd be inclined to shorten the last line of each verse. Removing or changing some words may give it more punch to end the verses. but that's a preference not a critique. A good hard hitting poem. Regards Roscoe.

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

The poem is actually one of the few written predominately in trochee that I have seen in a while. The last line of each stanza though does seem to run on a bit. I might have tried keeping the poem exclusively in trochee, but that's the way I roll. Not necessarily something to brag about.
As to the subject... geez, could you make it more edgy? I cut myself getting to the end.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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