Journal, Diary, & Blogging / weeds.
My hair reminds me
of weeds.
The kind that choke the flowers.
My existence is similar I think,
I am what my hair says i am.
my fingers prove to be
what they say I am out to be.
I choke
beautiful things.
my mess that more
then sometimes always gets in my eyes.
is a promise from
what wallows inside.
I blink
blunder
bleed.
The picture
in my mind speaks
of me crossed legged in a garden.
I am a weed.
I think my very nature
is in direct reference
to those beautiful
beautifully
hated things.
But they survive
in all their ugliness.
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I liked this, but it seemed more like poetry. Maybe we should have an uncategoerized section. I also hate my hair, so I can easily relate to this. But I never would have thought to compare it to weeds. Great job.
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I believed in this weeds metaphor just about. It was well enough expressed. I thought you could maybe cut some lines to make quite a strange and arresting poem. The my existence line, for example, going straight from choke the flowers to I am what my hair says I am is great. And you being similar to weeds is sort of the point of the poem, you don’t need to say it in so many words. I also thought you could cut all of my mess to bleed. It’s a different metaphor, different from winds and choking
I’m digging it. Even though weeds are pretty ugly and people hate them, they survive no matter how inconvenient they may seem to be.
The writing was thoughtful and creative. The words you chose were good and the arrangement seemed appropriate. I thought the end, the last 7 lines, were very poignantly made, and expressed very well. A perfect ending.
Cheers.
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