A Critique: Shadow
The poem:
βPushesβ
On the ground,
Staring at the ceiling.
Hearing no sound,
But my fears wheeling.
My body a ball,
Wilted in fear.
I have taken the fall,
In the end we are here.
Teeth ground flat,
Breathing is tight.
After our chat,
Donβt want a fight.
Given up the ghost,
My heart now hush.
Letβs make the most,
My soul now mush.
β¦
**A well meant mess.**
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**Shadowβs work has always been divisive and this piece is no different, a mixture of internal dialogue and turmoil sometimes makes for good work. Not here though as it comes as amateurish and bereft of inspiration.**
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**_Silvia Groves
(Part time writer and amateur food blogger)
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Love You R
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_**π€
Oh look 800 piecesβ¦π₯²