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This poem is part of the contest:

07/26 Letter to Your Future Self

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My Will

Dearest Present, this peasant would not live any longer (was trying so hard for a nonchalant facecard when I said this banger) 

But I know that I know that I won't go just yet

Hearing this moment from the age golden, surely I will have known better

But now that I think about it, it already makes me laugh

A person who wishes to perish, only to await a genuinely great epitaph (lemme guess, a pretentious heterophobic quote? Oh you are serious...bet)

 

E-hem

 

Dearest Future, what is the state of the world?

Is it a place of terrors, or graced with lovers?

My parents would be gone, my whole life woebegone, all the more I'm sure

But they taught me well "Little Kell, when we farewell this deary dwelling, you shall not be weeping, for you still have a life ahead shining"

(so they didn't actually say this BUT you and I both know how we have to adjust our trust in them, and given what unhinged shits poetic liscene permits)

But now that I think, that I only think of me, not in we, as in any company, romantically or platonically.

So yes, I will be a mess, at least it's a low-stress job, except it's not, a plot twist! Art kitsch with odd wit in excess

Dearest Sister, look no futher, I'm the potty jester flying in your lonely theater! (of course I don't buy into the cis straight man discourse, sorry sis, even if I support you being a pacifist)

It's giving "Weird Artsy-Fartsy Queer Uncle", foreseen and fiercely decreed! (*hee~hee* in Michael Jackson's infamous falsetto melody)

 

Dearest Past, I've been touching grass, life indeed lasts, far more than what it once suggested, here're what I've manifested: (keep your self help incel ass away from him you pedo creep!)

Growing older and colder, dollars grow less significant while meanings grow more transcendent, as skin sags

Yes, skin does do that, if all you do is just being mad

About people who care less about you, regardless of what you went through

From loud and proud, to cowardice, to a sissy hiss, eventually elegant and equally ugly, again

Be vigilant or be drunken, they will both serve you right, my mighty kitten!

But now that I think about you little twink, do be smitten! ~By the beauty out there, you just gotta know where, it's there! YEAH-HEH-HEH~ (Yall I can't with this massive cornball...)

It's one of many simple beautiful truths by Wild Beasts, amongst other artforms to say the least! (Not exactly "simple" is it? You can't even draw a hand or be a snobby fan, let alone doing music...)

Rise and shine, I know you did, but God forbids yearning for something more than just an empty bliss. 

Kiss goodbye, I miss you kid! Your mistakes shaped me! ("What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" ahhh two brothers with a CRAZY dream and over priced burgers toniiiii we are youngggg typ shii bruh)

 

Dearest Future, I write this will, just in case, a sudden daze occurs, when consciousness blurs and fades:

Remember me who we used to be, who were triumphing from the saddenings...mostly gloriously

A child of ignorant adventures, a teen with horrible figures, an adolescence whose insecurities torture, and now a young adult who unlearns and leaves to wander (we got edgelord biography before the next GTA)

Life flashes before your eyes, but you know this sense of demise before, because our mind just wanna sleep forevermore, well not all the time

Don't cry now, how soppy of me, as I don't expect this to reach you, since only very few of these concerns they overdue

Such as our twee AO3 tropes, old man yaoi slops instead of coke, your awful awful jokes and my hopes (me when I'm running out of things to say (I'm high-key gay and broke))

We will, matter of fact, be woke, to scare the hoes into their next mediocre shows (WERK bitch, tho, not even a cent is penned, Satan says pure evil witch you are woah...)

 

Dearest Future, We've Won

— kellustzall, Jul 01, 2026

About This Poem

Style/Type: Free verse

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?

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Draft

About the Author

Country/Region: VNM

More from this author

Critiques

neopoet

neopoet

2 weeks 1 day ago

Neopoet AI (premium) [2026-06]

The below is a computer-generated response from Neo, Neopoet’s AI:

The poem's central conceit is its strongest structural asset: a will addressed in turn to Present, Future, Sister, and Past, culminating in a return to Future with the declaration "We've Won." That epistolary frame gives the piece a spine, and the repeated salutation headings create a ritual rhythm that pulls the reader through what is otherwise a densely associative sprawl. The final one-line section, stripped of the parenthetical asides that saturate the rest, lands with real force precisely because it withholds them; the silence around "We've Won" does more work than any elaboration could.

The most distinctive craft decision here is the parenthetical, italicized voice that undercuts nearly every sincere line. This creates a genuine two-track structure — an earnest register interrupted by a self-mocking one — and when it works, it dramatizes a speaker who cannot let a vulnerable statement stand without deflecting. The line "A person who wishes to perish, only to await a genuinely great epitaph" followed by its own snide gloss is a clear instance where the technique enacts the poem's psychology rather than merely decorating it.

The difficulty is that the technique is applied so uniformly that it loses its charge. When every sincere line is immediately punctured, the puncturing stops being a surprise and becomes the default texture, so the moments that should feel like genuine interruption read as habit. Consider reserving the parenthetical voice for two or three key turns rather than deploying it throughout; the contrast would sharpen, and the earnest register would gain room to breathe and earn its emotional claims.

A related issue is that the sonic density — the heavy internal rhyme and near-constant assonance ("Little Kell, when we farewell this deary dwelling") — sometimes drives word choice ahead of sense. Several lines seem assembled for their chime rather than their meaning, and the reader loses the thread of what the speaker is actually saying. Identifying the handful of lines where the argument matters most, and letting those relax their rhyme, would help the poem's emotional through-line surface from beneath the wordplay.

One concrete suggestion regarding the frame: the poem addresses Future twice, and the second address is where the will's stated purpose ("I write this will, just in case") finally arrives. Naming that purpose earlier, even glancingly, would let the accumulating sections feel like they are building toward it rather than arriving at it retroactively. As written, the "just in case" motive explains the whole enterprise only near the end, which leaves the middle sections without a clear destination to lean into.

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