the shred of the needle


Jean Jacket Tough Guy
A needle shreds through the skin as the adrenaline pumps through the heart like a bat out of hell
A slight wince from the needle driving through and rapidly hitting against the bones
A chronic buzzing fills the room with an echo heard throughout and by all
Slowly through time and hard work it all starts to take form
An evil figure begins to stand tall in its final resting place
Trapped inside a being to be carried until the skin decays away
Left as a lasting piece of art to be cherished and hated throughout a lifetime
Memories of dire times, memories of better days
It all serves a purpose, what purpose we make it, that’s our decision and ours alone
No one can take it away, they can only wonder the reason why it stands
A picture says 1000 words but which ones serve a purpose to the picture
That is the challenge
Why would a seemingly calm and happy individual
Have a picture of pure evil depicted on his body
Is it for looks? Popularity? Or is there just that many layers to humans
That even the ones we get closest to still may be hiding something from us
Waiting for the person to come along to tell the true meaning behind it all
That can be the most challenging part of all
Left to hope they come soon to lift it all away
But the scar of the past will always remain, never fading, never growing
But it will always lie closer to the heart than any human can reach


Banned - What an Asshat!
I like, it is a decent set of disturbing imagery. One note on writing prose/imagery that does not rhyme, keep it short. The reason for this, believe it or not, is that the human brain gets confused because it can not relate the third line to the first.

Otherwise, very nice.

One other note: I dont like how the center line is "Thats the challenge" it throws off the whole sense of disfunction that the first line sets us up for, and it is very short comparitavely, so it makes you stop, then read like the second part is a seperate story.
Poetry doesn't have to rhyme, when poets try to rhyme everything what they write is inevitable very mother goosish. Did Shakespeare rhyme? NO! Did he write poetry? You better believe it.