#1
who's a whiney emo kid?

i cradle this moment
like the scars on a child
moving from place to place
in balance with every fear,
the halves of me that you can't give back.
the expectations ahead that fold and fade
in a plastic bag

when you crawl out into the sunlight,
it can burn your back and bruise your arms
and sometimes you won't go anywhere meaningful.
sometimes, a home is a home
and a patience is virtue and sometimes
leaving is a big step
for me.

i should seperate you from this small town,
from my memories of you.
you from the people you aren't, now
waiting for the future to make up for
kissing your cheek and leaving.
say anything, low and sweet;
honestly,
i guess i could give you
those things, not just for me,
Last edited by hippieboy444 at Aug 2, 2010,
#2
I can feel the emotion running strongly and vibrant through this, only problem is that some of the descriptions are lacking and not exactly succulent. Take for example the 2nd stanza, I see what you mean and how you'd consider it necessary but it bogs down the piece. Either re-write it or scrap it in my opinion. The 3rd stanza was my favorite but I stumbled over "you from the people you aren't anymore", especially with period in the previous line. I didn't particularly like the repitition of "into a" in the final line of the 1st stanza.

Reading this you'd think I didn't enjoy the piece, but I'd rather pick something to bits in order to make it greater rather than leave it where it is with so much potential.


c4c?
https://www.ultimate-guitar.com/forum/showthread.php?t=1345535
#3
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i cradle this every moment
like the scars on a childI personally don't know anyone that "cradles" scars of childeren, I've seen them mend, patch or restore, never cradle. Either change "cradle" or "scars on childeren"
moving from place to place
in balance with every fear, Preyed by every fear
the halves of me that you can't give back.
the expectations ahead that fold and fade
in a plastic bag Honestly I have no idea where the plastic bag came from

when you crawl out into the sunlight,
it can burn your back and bruise your arms
and sometimes you won't go anywhere meaningful.
sometimes, a home is a home
and a patience is virtue and sometimes
leaving is a big step
for me.

i should seperate you from this small town,
from my memories of you.
you from the people you aren't, now
waiting for the future to make up for
kissing your cheek and leaving.
say anything, low and sweet;
honestly,
i guess i could give you
those things, not just for me,
This may sound harsh, but just rewrite the whole ending. It sounded like by this point you had just given up and are just writing things. Try to make it seem your over it now since the last stanza you talked about getting over it, so now you are.

Not bad, the middle stanza I didn't really see anything wrong on first glance, which is a very good thing. But your last stanza could use a little work but other than that Keep on Writing
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