Learn more about other poetry terms
I’m constantly holding back tears, I hate the lump in my throat, I wake up, do my makeup, fix my hair, and throw on my coat, I walk out the door and into the world, Here I am everyone, just a lost, vulnerable girl,
Be more open, use less verbs, no more repetition, and less words. Be more suspicious, use smaller ending, make characters relatable, and less words. Be more honest,
Maybe I don't have much to write about, inside my life and me, I am typical, with standard living, and a divorced family. Yes, I probably am very guessable, That white girl down the street.
There is no love for her
This predictable feeling of old, The one of countless tales told, Has become an object of the norm, That word surrounded with storm, I had predicted to feel detached from me,
Falling, falling, falling— Limp like the rag doll I used to play with But that has now been packed away in a storage box Somewhere amongst the dust of the forgotten in the attic— You hold me up again.