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There Is No Place For Feeling In Modern Poetry

Hot face
meet cold desk.
Voices carry but not much sinks in,
because of course
you think
no, you KNOW
you could do better.
Fight the urge to speak out of turn
the monster clawing at your ears
clawing at your insides
tearing at your chest.
Spring is coming from everywhere,
Spreading, contagious.
Everything is moving
and I am not the biggest leaf in the woods
but my roots are coming up
and I am falling down
but at least I can interpret art in more ways than one.
For now I think of how heavy my schoolbooks shouldn't be
instead of retaining anything Marianne Moore ever said.
I am in Ancient Greece now.
I am sixteen and I wear my little leaves in a wreath on my head
because only important people do that.
Helen was beautiful.
Devastating, war-worthy,
All of Ancient Greece hated her.
If I was Greek,
I would hate you.

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?
Last few words: 
very flarf-y.
Editing stage: 


Loved this write not sure of what poetic form it takes.
A young one looks out with futures Wisdom hidden from view.
That the early years are hard will make you later life a much more rewarding place to be. Yours Ian.T

There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

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