Mistakes (explicit)

[Hog Butcher]

shotgun in my face:
        Wreck my fucking plants.
        You wreck my fucking life.
        I can kill you,
        Boom, you're fucking gone.

sleeping with eyes open.
maybe ten,
startled,
seeing,
then secretly awake.

terror transferred —
my eyes to hers.
she dropped the gun,
I made her cry.
what had I done?

This reminded me of one of my favorite poems. I think it would illuminate the problems I have with it if I posted it.

"Occurrence" by Franz Wright

I've gotten everyone who hurt me.

In a blackout a man loads his shotgun
again.

Outside the genuine star spangled twilight
of North Dakota
unfurls, twinkling and barking.

The he becomes a ghost.

Big windblown rags of bitching crows
resettle
in the trees out back.

These poems have a similar subject, but Wright, known for his devilish metaphors, manages to make even such dark content beautiful. He even manages to make an obscenity seem necessary. Basically, your poem lacks the imagery that's desperately needed to transcend the darkness of the subject and the vulgar language. It's too much hell and not enough heaven.