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Haunted (1 Viewer)


Senior Member
I slaughter to hear your sighs
I plunder, beg, and curse
Yet you never bat your eyes.
You, the surveyors of life. Though
you'd kill to make this burden light,
(reshape, reform, teach them right)
I find the weight it holds is death.
If not unto oneself
then unto someone else.


Senior Member
I like the ending, it flows nicely. I try to pay attention to how many syllables each line has. I haven't written a poem in a while though. One thing I like about your poem here is its dark, I like dark literature at times. Keep having fun. Good job.


WF Veterans
Food for thought, this poem. Not usually one for the abstract, but this one has fluid overlay that allows it to be applied to a plethora of situations and connotations. Concise and well wrought. Write on!

- D. the T. of P.B.


Senior Member
One thing I like about your poem here is its dark
If it were not for light, darkness would not exist. If it were not for something, nothing would be no option.

to whom do you speak?
The vices and voices and demons that haunt me. Those that survey my sitting here typing and tell me I'm a fool and a hypocrite.

plethora of situations and connotations.
It could mean an hundred things, but eighty five of them are morbid.


Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
kb... this is so siccck.. so, I love it.. adore the twisted tension sliding through the words... don't know... don't really care what it means... I am fascinated..


Senior Member
I destroy all the parts of me, one at a time, to no reward and no joy of others.
It's like I try to delete personalities, then new ones pop up in their place.
You'd have me kill the many different parts of me, because I should only be one.
But, I feel like, with every part of me I try to erase, I am dying.
If I am not dying, then isn't that part of me now dead? Have I then killed myself? or someone else?