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Literature Text
Blood on the ground, blood on my skin.
Why do I let those cruel knives in?
Why don’t I just defend myself?
Don’t I care for my mental health?
Yes – that’s why, that’s why I hold back
And leave my heart bare to attack.
I’m not as helpless as I seem,
Nor do I live within a dream.
You’ve never seen her, but she’s here,
Here in my mind, drinking my tears.
This other me, this inner beast
Who on their blood would love to feast.
And so she is caged, deep within;
To let her loose would be a sin.
She says she’d just stop them, and not
Go too far. I quake at the thought;
I do not trust her, this shadow –
Me and not me, life without glow.
I could unleash this dark being,
Let my cruel half fix cruel things.
I shudder when I look at you,
But not for fear of what you’ll do.
It’s her, this beast within I fear,
It’s her crimes that I hold back here.
I’d rather see my blood than yours,
Rather bleed than open the doors
And let this monster wreak revenge
For all that’s happened, all that’s been.
She’s never killed, was always kept
Safely inside while I have wept.
Still, no harm in making certain
By dropping down heavy curtains.
It’s not what I’ve done, but instead
What could happen that fills my head.
Their blood is not spilt on the ground,
Their screams don’t really echo ’round,
Their hearts don’t lie crushed into pulp,
There’s no poison in drinks they gulp,
Death does not yet tighten his grip –
But could it be if my shields slip?
Never my plan and not my past,
But every day could be the last,
The final calm before the storm,
My last adherence to the norm.
So I hold back and simply bleed;
It’s better than that dreadful deed.
Why do I let those cruel knives in?
Why don’t I just defend myself?
Don’t I care for my mental health?
Yes – that’s why, that’s why I hold back
And leave my heart bare to attack.
I’m not as helpless as I seem,
Nor do I live within a dream.
You’ve never seen her, but she’s here,
Here in my mind, drinking my tears.
This other me, this inner beast
Who on their blood would love to feast.
And so she is caged, deep within;
To let her loose would be a sin.
She says she’d just stop them, and not
Go too far. I quake at the thought;
I do not trust her, this shadow –
Me and not me, life without glow.
I could unleash this dark being,
Let my cruel half fix cruel things.
I shudder when I look at you,
But not for fear of what you’ll do.
It’s her, this beast within I fear,
It’s her crimes that I hold back here.
I’d rather see my blood than yours,
Rather bleed than open the doors
And let this monster wreak revenge
For all that’s happened, all that’s been.
She’s never killed, was always kept
Safely inside while I have wept.
Still, no harm in making certain
By dropping down heavy curtains.
It’s not what I’ve done, but instead
What could happen that fills my head.
Their blood is not spilt on the ground,
Their screams don’t really echo ’round,
Their hearts don’t lie crushed into pulp,
There’s no poison in drinks they gulp,
Death does not yet tighten his grip –
But could it be if my shields slip?
Never my plan and not my past,
But every day could be the last,
The final calm before the storm,
My last adherence to the norm.
So I hold back and simply bleed;
It’s better than that dreadful deed.
This is the result of an English assignment. We were studying the confessional poets, and were told to write our own confessional poems.
A confessional poem 'confesses' something about the author, usually in a rather dark, symbolic fashion.
This one was mine.
And NO, I am NOT a cutter. The blood is purely symbolic!
A confessional poem 'confesses' something about the author, usually in a rather dark, symbolic fashion.
This one was mine.
And NO, I am NOT a cutter. The blood is purely symbolic!
© 2009 - 2024 sorentense
Comments45
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Overall Vision Originality Technique ImpactFirst of all, it's dark...we all know that, but that's not necessarily a bad thing, in fact, it really adds to the visceral impact of what you wrote. That said, here's how I'd break it down...
Vision: The sheer evocative mental imagery you have throughout the poem is astounding, several phrases just seem to leap off the page, especially lines like 'This other me, this inner beast, who on their blood would love to feast.' and 'It's not what I've done, but instead, what could happen that fills my head.' Phrasing like that helps the reader identify with the character, or in this case, you...they're fears that most people share.
Originality: Although I love the poem, I have to admit I have heard many of the themes expressed in it before...inner beasts and fallen blood are old concepts, but you do a good job of bringing them to life in what is, for the most part, a very new and original way.
Technique: Once again, very, very good. I think the meter falters just a little bit in some places, but for the most part the tempo and rhyme scheme are solid and work together to form a unified whole...the rhetorical questions you pose help provoke the reader into thinking about it.
Impact: Possibly the most important part of a poem, or of any work of art, is how much and what sort of effect it has on the viewer. In this case, you do that very well. The blood, the latent cruelty, that inner violence that any good person will struggle with at some time or another, have a very raw and visceral connection that most people can instantly identify with. The latter half in particular, "blood not spilt...screams don't echo...no poison drinks..." is particularly effective, thoroughly emphasizing as it does just what could be, what might have been. Overall, it is fantastic work.