This is the first thing I've written in a long long while, so here goes!
There's all this craziness in my head Things I’ve done, things I’ve said The day is closing down, lying on my bed I’m wondering what’s going on in my head.
What is it all really about? Being a mum, being a wife? Two point four kids and a neat life? Cleaning and cooking I stand with a breadknife In my hand and ask myself abstractly Is this it? Is this my life?
And inside my head I’m screaming And crying out, shouting and dying And no-one notices or no-one cares And no-one shares this agony. And why would they? They’re not me. But I, I need him to care, to want to share, Together with me, something more than this Meaningless Existence.
Forcing tears back behind the prisons of my eyes Hiding the discontent deep inside Why do I keep trying and failing and dying? And he doesn’t notice and he doesn’t care And he won’t share in this misery Or if he does he won’t say, and he won’t trust And I’m still lying here, dying here. Slowly dying. Surely he could save me. Shouldn’t he save me? Couldn’t he save me?
~ Loopy Loo ~ "For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son that whosoever believeth on Him shall not perish but have eternal life." John 3:16
There's all this craziness in my head{--} Things I’ve done, things I’ve said{.} The day is closing down{;} lying on my bed I’m wondering what’s going on in my head.
Good attention-grabbing intro verse. You pique the reader's interest, wondering what's causing all the mental turmoil, so we keep reading.
What is it all really about? Being a mum, being a wife? Two point four kids and a neat life? Cleaning and cooking I stand with a bread knife {"bread knife" two words, I think} In my hand and ask myself abstractly Is this it? Is this my life?
Excellent questions. Short, staccato. The lack of wordiness seems to underscore the urgency for answers.
And inside my head I’m screaming And crying out, shouting and dying And no-one notices or no-one cares And no-one shares this agony. And why would they? They’re not me. {grammatically correct would be "They're not I." but I don't think it's a big deal if you leave it; colloquially, it's an accepted phrase.
Otoh, you do switch from "no-one" (singular) to a vague "they" (plural) without explanation. I'm being picky here (reeeeeeeeal picky, so toss my comment on its ear, if you wish, or send it over to "they" to be pummeled ). You might consider reworking the segue from "no-one" to "they"........ (peers? critics? family? strangers?)} But I, I need him to care, to want to share, Together with me, something more than this Meaningless Existence.
Poignant. You pack a wallop in few lines. Does Meaningless Existence come first or does Him's lack of sharing? Jst wondering aloud... you see how your poem evokes reactions from your readers. Well done.
Oh, and on a trite note, maybe it's a Brit thing, but I don't see "no-one" hyphenated in my part of the world. Usually just "no one".
Forcing tears back behind the prisons of my eyes Hiding the discontent deep inside Why do I keep trying and failing and dying? And he doesn’t notice and he doesn’t care And he won’t share in this misery Or if he does he won’t say, and he won’t trust And I’m still lying here, dying here. Slowly dying. Surely he could save me. Shouldn’t he save me? Couldn’t he save me?
"Dying" lives up to its title. Ends on a tailspin of despair. I like the final 3 lines especially.. .. the declarative sentence stated firmly followed by the eroding questions and doubts.
Don't be such a stranger, LL. I've missed you.
------------------------------ The opposite of joy is not sorrow. It is unbelief. ~ Leslie Weatherhead Picture me with my ground teeth stalking joy--fully armed too, as it's a highly dangerous quest.[/b] ~ Flannery O'Connor
). You might consider reworking the segue from "no-one" to "they"........ (peers? critics? family? strangers?)}