Not going to pretend...

[hollow rain]

that i can write as elegantly or as inspired as the poeple here...but i thought i would share just one of my poems.

WHY
A gun in his hand.
Sweat trickles down his face.
A soul in search of His immeasureable grace.
How can it be,
that one child;
so dear,
Resorts to violence to hide from his fear.
What is the use; can't stop the pain.
Where is this Christ that so many claim?
A saviour, a friend, great source of joy,
Where are you Lord? I am just a boy!
Yet here is my heart,
cracked, chipped and broken,
shattered by actions and words yet unspoken;
crying out for healing and mercies anew.
Can't stand it anymore.
I can take it no longer.
One pull of the trigger and the pain will be over.
What have i done,
what is my purpose,
No love on earth can touch the surface.
Pull the trigger, sadness no more,
sense the gun clatter to the floor.
Blackness now,
eternal death awaits,
Oh Jesus why did i not heed your call,
To have known You would have made my problems seem so small.

 

[Tissue]

Well, in the way of the message, this piece was good. I like pieces in which they talk about suicide in a regretful manner, as in from the perspective of a damned soul.

The poetry aspect of it is a bit off, and doesn't flow. Lines are chopped up like onions.

My advice is this: Try rewriting it, but as a piece of prose. Compose it somewhat like a prayer of one who is killed, or perhaps as a heavenly letter. Play with it a bit.

Overall, nice job.

 

[hollow rain]

Thanks for the input tissue Ireckon i may just take you advice...sounds like a plenty good idea to me

Cheers
Gin