poetry critical

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empty swears

Black suits and dresses
With the mourn of your passing
Lower the deceased
A series despairing souls
There was a time, when the sirens rung and men wore blue
A zipper over whom should rest in peace
A time, when the room looked filled with dark red paint
A time when I promised you were coming back
In hostile white halls
Pacing back and forth
The agony that was brought
When the blanket coated your face
And now, to this solemn day, where you along with the pain
Was set underground
When the naïve come and ask
Are you coming back?
Tears burst down
My head no longer high
When her sweet innocent eyes look to me and utters these words once more
I knew the promise I made, had been like the heart, your lifeless body tore

17 Feb 07

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Beautiful, somber imagery. Your use of color is perfect.

I could imagine the whole poem play out before my eyes. I really enjoyed this.

I think L13 needs to be rearrange. It disrupts the flow of the poem.
 — wanderlusted