Oh that opening is a GEM.
Way too shatter conventions and expectations with that second stanza.
"So lets talk about our relationship/and it's functionality."
those two lines just sum up triumphant boldness. Like "Im too smart to let your keep hurting me. I'm done." and it's. Just. Great.
several bits in this poem remind me of a melanie Martinez song. Specifically, "Parents don't communicate/as their chid grows/and people tend to inch away/from a man in dirty clothes", and "down the hatch go 20 pills/ so Im unaffected by their drama/then you start to see flowery hills/butits likely to cause you trauma." It's casually somber and cynically beautiful and I love it. That said, My only problem with this piece is that the beginning part "Dont romanticize mental illness/dont romanticize self-harm/if you lost all of your control/would you then be alarmed?" is just a little too on the nose, y'know? I think you should consider taking it out. Your argument in this poem is that mental illness is frightening and shouldn't be glorified, and your poem makes that clear by giving a frightening account of psychological agony and leaving out all of the usual "glamour" often given to the subject. I think if you take out those four first lines the poem will be much more effective by showing, not telling.
It appears you have uploaded the same poem twice ma dude.
That said, I just wanted to offer you a bit of feedback. Its just that the second line in the second section is very repetitive of the first. "I saw nothing. I kept looking and still saw nothing." maybe you could add a new piece of information here? Just a thought. Interesting poem. Curious about what it would be like if it was longer with more description.
So, inspired from your extremely kind review of my work, I needed to return the favor. I will without a doubt read more of your stories after reading this one. The minute I read, "Why don't you just take her, Lord?" My heart broke a little. But the absolute sweetness of the peace Wilma felt when she felt her mother's memory shine through, I almost cried! I don't cry easily! Then saw that this was a story inspired by you're own mother and my God, my heart!
My one and only note is this,
I wonder why Wilma shouts at her reflection when she prays in the bathroom?
I worry that the line "the mail is slow" is redundant, because the term "snail mail" already implies the fact. Also, the use of the word "mail" twice in such a short poem sounds not quite right. avoid using the same word more than once in several sentences unless the repetition serves a purpose.
How cute! Usually, stories about appreciating what you have involve loss and sadness. Its nice to see one thats more of a celebration!
I just had a couple note:
1. the beginning of the paragraph talking about the lady's family, the sentence "Her story." doesn't seem to belong there. its short and a little awkward. Perhaps make it "As for her story..." Or take it out altogether.
2. I believe you meant to say "autism", not "altruism"! Ha ha!
This was a cute, charming little tale. I only have small notes for you, but here they are:
1. I believe you were trying to say that the old man had died days before Josh met him, could you just change the mothers line to "I'd like to talk to him about a coin he gave to my son *today*." that would be easy and make an improvement.
2. It'd enrich the story to include a little more interaction between the old man and Josh before he disappears from the porch, so we have a little more insight as to why the old man would be changing his will for Josh.
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