daze

[ScurryFunger]

1st revision

My memories fail me,
they twist and turn and connive
to lessen the impact
borne through time
to torment me where I sit.

There's a crazy person in the corner,
cutting out a never ending
stream of paper people.
Fragile,joined by
their wafer thin hands.

Out of the window I see life trees
of people that live on the hill,
their days like golden leaves
flutter gently down
in a pattern of variety.

The ceiling of my room seems lower
than it did last year.
The crazy person twitches,
stifles a laugh with a cough
and gets my attention.

Like in days earlier,
or maybe it's the first time,
I press my forehead to the pane.
Push the anguish down
into the tightly knit place where it's kept.

I keep going back to the window,
compelled and propelled
to torture myself perverse.
I'm safe yet yearn
for silhouetted grass.

The walls of my room seem smaller
than they did last year.
The crazy person smiles,
beckoning me for a joyous time
of forgetting for a while.

I thank them.
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original

My memories fail me,
they twist and turn and connive
to lessen the impact, of the fact
that they were borne through time
to torment me where I sit.

There's a crazy person in the corner,
cutting out a never ending
stream of paper people days.
Fragile, joined together only by
their wafer thin hands.

Out of the window I can see the life trees
of the other people that live on the hill,
their days seem like golden leaves
that flutter gently down
in a pattern of variety.

The ceiling of my room seems lower
than it did last year.
The crazy person twitches,
stifles a laugh with a cough
and gets my attention for a while.

Like in days earlier,
or maybe it's the first time,
I push my forehead to the pane.
I push the anguish down
into the tightly knit place where it's kept.

I keep going back to the window,
compelled and propelled
to torture myself perverse.
I'm safe and yet I long and yearn
for silhouetted grass.

The walls of my room seem smaller
than they did last year.
The crazy person smiles,
beckoning me for a joyous time
of forgetting for a while.

I thank them.

[milo]

My memories fail me,
they twist and turn and connive
to lessen the impact, of the fact
that they were borne through time
to torment me where I sit.

There's a crazy person in the corner,
cutting out a never ending
stream of paper people days.
Fragile, joined together only by
their wafer thin hands.

Out of the window I can see the life trees
of the other people that live on the hill,
their days seem like golden leaves
that flutter gently down
in a pattern of variety.

The ceiling of my room seems lower
than it did last year.
The crazy person twitches,
stifles a laugh with a cough
and gets my attention for a while.

Like in days earlier,
or maybe it's the first time,
I push my forehead to the pane.
I push the anguish down
into the tightly knit place where it's kept.

I keep going back to the window,
compelled and propelled
to torture myself perverse.
I'm safe and yet I long and yearn
for silhouetted grass.

The walls of my room seem smaller
than they did last year.
The crazy person smiles,
beckoning me for a joyous time
of forgetting for a while.

I thank them.

there is much about this that is quite good - S2 and S3 particularly. The meter is quite natural and good as well. There are some issues with superfluous wording and inefficiency, you should have this moved to mil imo.

[ScurryFunger]

issues of superfluous wording and inefficiency - love it! (that's me, to a t)

[ScurryFunger]

you should have this moved to mil imo.

I think I need a few more opinions than that

I wouldn't mind, I think it's ripe for some critique and changes. I'm a bit nervous.

[billy]

i think we're all nervous when we put a poem up for crit, join the club :J:

it felt a bit wordy in places, i bolded them out in the body of the poem. (all just suggestions for you to think about )
you have some redundancies, long and yearn both mean a similar thing.
on the whole it's a great effort with only a few probs. what i did enjoy about it was the two sides of the person going in and out of crazy.
thanks for the read.

My memories fail me,
they twist and turn and connive i like the and's in this line, they somehow drag image out a bit further
to lessen the impact, of the fact
that they were borne through time
to torment me where I sit.

There's a crazy person in the corner,
cutting out a never ending
stream of paper people days. not sure why days is in the line or in what context it's being used
Fragile, joined together only by
their wafer thin hands.

Out of the window I can see the life trees
of the other people that live on the hill,
their days seem like golden leaves
that flutter gently down
in a pattern of variety. this is my favourite stanza. it's a solid vignette of another world

The ceiling of my room seems lower
than it did last year.
The crazy person twitches,
stifles a laugh with a cough
and gets my attention for a while.

Like in days earlier, on earlier days?
or maybe it's the first time,
I push my forehead to the pane. a suggestion would be press instead of push, which also get rid of the repeat.
I push the anguish down
into the tightly knit place where it's kept.

I keep going back to the window,
compelled and propelled
to torture myself perverse. feels awkward, a suggestion would be [to perversely torture myself]
I'm safe and yet I long and yearn
for silhouetted grass.

The walls of my room seem smaller
than they did last year.
The crazy person smiles,
beckoning me for a joyous time
of forgetting for a while.

I thank them.