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Post by xxxmorbiddreamsxxx on May 30, 2008 10:54:00 GMT -5
They hate what i do. They hate what Ive become. There afraid of what Ive grown into, the sick caricatures of some.
They always tear me down. They think my life is grotesque. They don't want me to be what i found. They hate how i dress.
My life isn't your picture perfect American dream, you cant always be the way others want to see you, I'm not the way you want me to seem. you should know thats how i want to be.
They say my so called antics are getting old, if they want me to act nice then ill wear a dead smile and put on a good show.
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Post by Dead Moon Child on May 30, 2008 13:50:13 GMT -5
I love the way you write out your expression of rage in rebel. Keep writing, I really like it.
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Post by schwabster00 on Jun 15, 2008 16:58:09 GMT -5
this was really good
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Post by _black phoenix_ on Jun 15, 2008 20:58:30 GMT -5
I liked that bit, but a lot of it felt forced.. Your rhyme scheme is controlling you too much in this poem. :/
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Post by Aish on Jun 28, 2008 17:04:24 GMT -5
"Seam" in the third stanza should be "SEEM". Your syntax is halting and honestly, even though you are trying to be different and assert your independance, this demonstration is barren. The rhyme scheme is too forced, and reads more like a petulent diatribe to a church group or familial gathering. Try breaking out from your format and using different structure/avant garde word pairings to get your point across.
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