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Critical Analysis #1
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Silkdragon
Member
since 2000-06-24
Posts 65


0 posted 2000-09-12 09:46 PM


when i
lie awake at night
i sometimes wonder
at the path
my life
has taken.
a frown creases
my brow
and i think
that i may be
unnatural.
a life like mine
was never meant
to be,
perhaps?
i have
always lived for the
sake of others.
have i
ever truly been
myself?
i wonder.
ever since
i was little
i have been
carefully watched,
scrutinized,
and i knew i
was meant to be
the best.
i was always the first.
what is it like
to be the last?
i wonder.
i think i am
unnatural,
the wretched sum
of a madman’s
dreams
and i cannot forget
the horrors
i suffered
for the sake of
his experiment.
created, not
born.
a patchwork of
peices
glued together to become
“perfection.”
that is what
i am.
perfect?
i laugh softly.
i think not.
mine is a life
of loneliness that i
must keep veiled,
because to be
strong
is all i have.
yet
all of them
envy me.
they want to be
what i am.
for them
i am a hero,
a fairy tale spun
by their worshipful
imaginings.
but i am not
what i
show myself to be.
instead,
a toy,
my life rehearsed
from before
i was born
and still now i
carry out
the play.
can they realize
how i
despise myself?
i pity them their
foolishness.
they cannot know what
it is
to be
me.

This poem is in no way based on my personality.  

© Copyright 2000 Erin - All Rights Reserved
Brad
Member Ascendant
since 1999-08-20
Posts 5705
Jejudo, South Korea
1 posted 2000-09-17 03:11 AM


This actually follows pretty clearly the self pity line to a lashing out. What's missing however are more concrete images to enhance the feeling you want.

Take a look at the work of Sylvia Plath or Molly Peacock. They might give you some ideas on what to do here.

Just an opinion,
Brad

jbouder
Member Elite
since 1999-09-18
Posts 2534
Whole Sort Of Genl Mish Mash
2 posted 2000-09-18 12:08 PM


Silkdragon:

This poem brought thoughts of Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein" to mind (the book, not the movie).  I like your approach but would like some clarification, particularly on whether the narrator is truly manufactured (like the Frankenstein monster)or if it is a metaphor.  I thought "toy" was a little weak when compared to my thoughts  on Shelley's book but perhaps that is not the direction you intended to go.

I did notice that you first wrote "created, not born" then, later in the piece, wrote "before I was born".  You may want to adjust your wording so not to be conflicting.

My other suggestions are pretty much in line with Brad's.  The benefit of giving the reader strong, concrete images to chew on, as a general rule, cannot be underplayed.  There are times, I think, when obscurity is demanded by subject or mood but I don't think that is the case with this poem.

Thanks for the read and for reviving thoughts of Shelley (I really enjoyed her book).  

Jim

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