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by Jemia de Blondeville
Shoulds't i venture out
Into the wet cooling wind...
I saw a glimpse of it and...
It still kills me that your happy and believe me,
I know how terrible of a thing that is it to say...
by Ben Pickard
With measured verse, I tried to make you hear
But meter fell to unromantic yards...
It’s like there is a tornado inside of me,
it’s ripping apart everything violently...
The saddest tears are the driest ones seen in the bravest smile.
Don't tell one who writes of grief to rethink their "I" statements. When you know they had tears on their hands as they wrote, don't say the poem could be better. You might as well say their grief could be worse.
If someone shares a poem with you that is meant to help close an open wound, they don't want your opinion. They want your hand on their shoulder, gripping it tight.