Critique (edit)

[brynmawr1]

The me that is now
was born in the dark 
of an almost dawn.
 
Drifting between the dream
and the not, I became awake
and began to see,  
 
for now, only the shadows
of what exits at the in-between,
the seam of the world.
 
I shared this new sight
for others to read,
to say their words.
 
And I did bleed.
Only to find myself
hungry for my own blood.

I read this one before I got to the Central Park poem.  It's a very different creature!  I like it very much, although I'm not sure what you mean in that 4th stanza.  How is it you are saying the reader's words?

Tim

Hi Tim,
I see how that 4th stanza could be confusing.  I will try to make it more clear.  Helpful as always.
Take care,
steve