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He dressed himself kindly every day,
tied glory to his shirt,
clean and polished by the maid,
the maid in which he paid with
utmost respect.
The board meetings were always the same,
focused on the boredom of the others.
Coffee was always stale.
One day the
lack of life
hacked him, and
spilled his emotions.
Naturally, all thought he was mad.
He went home
and shot his maid and
self to death.
When the police came,
they wrapped his head in the red shirt.
Though, now stained without professionalism.

12 Jun 07

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What 'in which he paid?"  The shirt, the maid?  Confusing there.  I love the 'tied glory to his shirt."

If you added, 'though' after stained, I think it would be about right.  I also think that if you made some of the longer lines shorter, the very short lines longer, it would be easier to read and not detract at all.

Poor maid, after all her hard work, he shoots her?  Damned ungrateful bastard...
 — Isabelle5

really like the idea of rearranging the lines. i will think on that.

i changed the other suggestions. i decided to put the last line as it is now, to initiate a pause there, and hopefully to close it with the main idea behind this poem; that, perhaps change is needed when all is perfect.

i also changed, the very first suggestion.

will focus on re-breaking. thank you.
 — listen

great poem!
I enjoyed this very much,
excellent alliteration/assonance, line breaks and flow.
nicely done-
sorry, i have no suggestions.
 — jenakajoffer

Dear Listen

truly exceptional rendition of a man trapped in an empty world of fakery and exploitation.

Larry striving to stay true lark
 — larrylark

thanks, all of you. i wish i could say more. putting this on the recent best is ... well, thank you.

it might be too soon to say this, but i'm writing a follow-up, and i'm planning on posting it. so look out, if perhaps one decides to read this comment.
 — listen

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