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Floating

he took my paper heart
and folded it into a plane
threw it to the wind
and all my efforts were in vain
he stole my ink, my life
and wrote his name over again
he sits and grins and writes my death
and bleeds me through his pen
my bones have bent so many times
but never have they broke
yet then i felt the subtle crack
with every word he spoke
my body's cold, my breath is hot
my knives are sharp when mind is not
and right now they are all i've got
that listen.

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?
Last few words: 
haven't been on in a while so i'm posting this. inspired by Hayley Williams and B.O.B., which is not Bob, believe it or not.
Editing stage: 

Comments

heres my suggestions for this paragraph
but its okay as it is

"with every word he spoke
my body's cold. and breath is hot
my knives are sharp. when my mind is not
and right now they are all Ilve got
who listens..."

or "whom" could never get that right in school
either

was thinking of a flower today
the japanese love or orgami
art how things are connected
in their connection to make beauty
in repetition
Like mandelbrot spirals
and mathematical sequencing
in angles
all languages that are mysterious
and dubious to my brain

I love thow you handle the emotion
and wordings the flow
rolling well and your use of textured
words to describe things too

Thank You for this poem!

approval is always nice! thanks, i haven't been on in a while, but i guess it's better to really think it through before you post sometimes.
thanks,
mag

author comment

keep coming back and reading
poems and seeing new
lines in patterns

"whom listens to my story plot"

the lines of many intimate
and sought
like clouds of tears that
fate had brought....

the mandelbrot theory thing
words spinning off words

ah, i see! i like that.
thanks again,
mag

author comment

i try but i seldom succeed, so it's always good to know that some stereotype has been broken, or some idea has been simplified.
thanks,
mag

author comment

I thus feel obliged to mark my ink
on the paper that someone folds
and
sends into the wind,
As a plane

My signature alone manifests a diamond rapport
Of a teenager in you
A subject often brought
as the wild imagination
of rasculous few
who simply enjoy and flee
sad but intensely true
a broken heart, a bent arrow

and a spent human are you
but take sermon of the one
who dwells in the ecstasy
of seekers of paradise
you are not alone.

loved

and a true fan i am, i adore your stuff. it is very good to know that i am not alone.
thanks,
mag

author comment
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