Infleunce
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I would like to take the chance,
To talk about a dance,
I should rather say the dance,
For there is no other like it.
You see there is not a chance to fight it.
Its victims left in predicament,
For from the outside all looks well,
But inside they are trapped,
Companions think they're smiling,
But Ney that is the bug,
That comes along and bites you,
But these ones you cannot see them,
They come disguised as music,
To make you twitch and writhe in rythem,
And now you've heard their jingle,
You've left them some what smitten.
>>7807520
why would you bother someone who looks so comfy?
>>7807522
I hope he is enjoying his rest
Thoughts?
>>7807645
That it should've been posted in the critique thread
>>7807645
You made the fatal mistake of posting an image more interesting than your poem. You should delete this thread, it will only go downhill from here, but I will weigh in on your poem nonetheless.
The meter's all over the place.
>Its victims left in predicament
Not a good line.
Poems about depression are so overdone, and for that matter, so generalized that they relate to everyone and their teenager. If there was anything original or insightful about your individual encounter with depression, you didn't mention it. I would encourage you to write about something else.
>>7807520
>
what is the gif from?
![a5ciyq-jpg[1].gif](https://i.imgur.com/QVVt60t.gif "a5ciyq-jpg[1]")