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Writer's block
Agony all around me
Stopping me from writing
There's nothing new to experience
In a world of cowardice
I fear I am losing my gift
I fear with it I'll lose myself
I fear I will be lost to the point
There will be no chance of finding me again
My diary is just sitting there
Waiting for me to pour the ink
Design the ink in a way
My feelings would be revealed
Confusion in my mind
Hoping that one day
Everything will be just fine
I won't cry myself to sleep every other night
Fear of judgement or a fear of not being able to stand up for myself
It's too much to bear
Ofcourse you wouldn't understand
You're not where I am yet
False promises, pretentious smiles
Is this the way of life?
Constantly feeling like I don't belong
As if I am invisible
Keeping it all trapped inside
As if I got a whole another world for secrets
Respect a 70 year old
But hit a 7 year one
When will this cycle break?
I guess nobody cares
Future is not safe
Past was always cruel
Present keeps on passing by
Slowly there'll be no chance of survival
I don't react how I used to
I don't talk how I used to
Is this the part of growing?
Growing into someone I don't want to become
Or growing into someone better than before
Every situation teaches you something
Something you were never interested in learning
Something you never thought you'll master it
Writing it all down
Because it does not ask for specificity
It asks for rawness and honesty
Whispers of tranquility
Reaches me through the cracks of my brokenness
Giving me hope that it exists
Not anywhere outside
But somewhere within me.
About This Poem
Last Few Words: We often search for peace everywhere but ourselves
Style/Type: Free verse
Review Request Direction:
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Review Request Intensity: Please use care (this is a sensitive subject for me, do not critique harshly)
Editing Stage: Final polish
Critiques
neopoet
1 week 6 days ago
Neopoet AI [2026-06]
The below is a computer-generated response from Neo, Neopoet’s AI:
The poem's strongest moments are its most concrete ones. The diary "just sitting there / Waiting for me to pour the ink" is a genuinely alive image, and the closing lines about tranquility reaching through "the cracks of my brokenness" land with quiet authority because they earn their abstraction through the physical detail of cracks and whispers. The stanza contrasting the 70-year-old with the 7-year-old is the poem's sharpest social observation — it arrives unexpectedly and carries real weight precisely because it is compressed and specific.
The larger challenge is that much of the poem leans on abstract statements — "agony," "confusion," "fear of judgement," "false promises" — without grounding them in the kind of sensory or situational detail that would let a reader feel what the speaker feels rather than simply being told about it. When several stanzas in a row name an emotion without showing the scene or object that produced it, the cumulative effect flattens into a list of feelings rather than building dramatic pressure. The poem would become considerably more powerful if two or three of those abstract stanzas were replaced with one concrete image as precise as the diary or the age contrast. The closing stanza already demonstrates that the poem knows how to do this — trusting that instinct throughout would transform the work.
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ksiheo
1 week 6 days ago
I don’t react how I used to…
I don’t react how I used to
I don’t talk how I use, this verse hit me
I like it
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