Week 13, Title: Unlit

[swirlsofpurple]

One step outside and the world will burn,
A lesson none should have to learn,
So she sits in this tower,
Eschewing this power,
Lets them call her strumpet, vain, irrelevant.

The fog is white- her time is figures in the distance,
Four walls and a singular tumbler of red wine,
The world pulls away at her touch,
This lead-plated gold of her self,
She is a footnote.

She holds up this stony imperfection to the light,
They never saw her courage not to fight,
Patience waits for no one,
So tried and tired, she is undone,
Capillaries shine, a tree in her eye.

The fire is orange- her dreams are balloon tethers,
One window and a crimson stained wrist,
She wants to be outside of her being,
This lining paints itself dark, rooting,
She is forgotten.

She whispers at voices in her head,
Better than having others instead,
She chips away,
Flakes of grey,
Seeking  herself.

Comments

[prog-schlock.livejournal.com]

I like how you play with rhyme, especially in the odd numbered stanza. It looks like your working towards a limerick rhyme scheme, but by breaking the pattern on the fifth line, you draw extra attention to that line - like it forces our brains to snap out of what we're expecting and focus on what you're saying. That's a great technical choice and one that allows us to both enjoy the flow of the words and the intended meaning.

As is often the case, I can't quite explain why I thought of this song while reading your piece, but I did:



Its not the cocaine images - its something about how Stevie is singing in the third person, but she's really examining herself.

[swirlsofblue.livejournal.com]

Thank you, glad you liked the way I structured it, I was hoping it would have that effect :).