Critiques for Poetry: Thoughts Come To Life

Critiques for Poetry: Thoughts Come To Life

Hello followers and blog scrollers.

Thank you for clicking my first blog. I wanted to share my poetry from a poetry collection I am working on that I would like to call "A Book of Poems: Thoughts Come To Life". As you can tell the theme is in my thoughts (since I write about them a lot) and I would like to share a few samples here from my 50-page long poetry book.

I'm looking for kind feedback and criticism.

Thank you.

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Warning: My poems touch on sensitive topics like depression and thoughts of suicide. My poetry is written for empathy and understanding purposes and is not made to be reinforced or re-enacted so if these topics are too much I understand and I advise you not to read for your mental health.

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Wet Bed

My bed was soaked,

Like the flood down my throat,

I choke, dissociating to escape reality's grasp,

A haze of disbelief, like a clinging gasp.

I blur out the people who didn’t believe in me,

So I don’t believe in them,

I replace them with voices in my head,

And only keep the worst piece of what they said,

Thinking of how they created me to be,

I breathe in and breathe in,

And only tears come out,

Thinking of the past that stays alive in the head,

Memory is a time machine of what is dead,

Perfect illusions, until myself I can't thread.

My senses return, snapping to reality's reign,

In a wet bed, I awaken, drenched by the pain.

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Wet Bed

I run with thoughts circling my mind.

With energy that can beat the past.

Without a trace of time.

It is the control of freedom that lasts.

I run with red on my feet.

Caught on the old wild ecstasy.

I bear it as there is no need for them to be neat.

Thinking of more than a fantasy.

I was ready to fly.

To stop my moods from wonder.

It swung so I flew 6 feet high.

To make it 6 feet under.

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Relive

Despair dreams of the past,

Dread awaits in the future.

Thoughts of what is dead and unborn,

The mind dies at the moment.

Rumination dissects recollections to relive.

It disguises itself as living.

Wet eyes wander to the ground chasing memories,

Heavy thoughts weigh the head down.

Heads overthink as time passes by,

But the body is still alive each morning, each night.

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ROTTEN THOUGHTS

I can't get up from my bed.

I can't wake up out of my head.

I want to live in my dreams.

Though life comes back to haunt me,

With those thoughts attached,

I think my thoughts have attacked.

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If I Could Recreate A Day

If I could, I would recreate every day.

I would aim to be the best.

Popular and cool, above the rest.

I would change the worst day.

"What an idiot!" those kids won't say.

I would rebirth myself into someone I envy today.

My skin would mold into something bold.

My foes could be friends if my story could be retold.

I'll change my nature for them.

Until I won't know who I am then.

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If you want to see more blogs and even check out more poems from me and this collection you can go check out my neobook: https://neobook.org/mienlfp/

Thank You 💓