Will you give me a firm critique of this?

You hand me thorns for flowers
and ask why I bleed.
My tears salt my own wounds.
To understand a love like ours,
you have to see the need;
which, in itself, is our doom.
Demanding countless hours
picking out the weeds,
hoping something beautiful will bloom.
Along came April showers,
washing away the seeds.
A barren garden plot lit the moon.
A dream of possibilities,
waken; I am lost.
Dead roses on a shelf in a glass.
A scene flashes in memories
where other petals, tossed,
litter lonely roads back to the past.
In between the tragedies
it matters naught, the cost;
I would be yours again if you would ask.
I redeem myself in reveries,
where all pathways crossed
lead to moonlit gardens, blooming now, at last.

Best Answer

Oh sis this is, Yowee.
Once dismissed
my fault?
a final kiss
Goode my child
confused,
rage felt most wild
lived a few years in doubt
self blame
it helped sometimes to shout
anger
You be most well I have to pray
as I do for all I care for
every new and old day.

Other Answers (6)

1:You dont meander or skip around. The power of this lies in the last four lines; they are lovely words, strung like beads that make the final product. I admire you and so many others who do this with such ease.
2:hello dear it was very beautiful and u hv a good imagination i like it very much. good luck.
3:Beautiful poem!
4:"blooming now, at last." yeah, I like that!
5:If I were a critic and knew what I was talking about I dont think I could criticize this its too good!
6:picks self up off the ground*……… WOW…….