*mother's point of view* so smooth to the touch I loved that vase so much it was held near and dear to my heart but on that one single night, everything fell apart blood soaked on the carpet is what I've found then I noticed my daughter lying on the ground I held her in my arms I left everything else in its place then she reached up with her bloody hand and touched my face I held her closer, her heartbeat even with mine at that moment, I knew that everything wasn't fine she told me she loved me, that she was trying to stay with me, with every breath she'd take I never thought that, like the vase she'd break the gasps grew more and more I said, "I love you." and laid her on the floor I called for help, but it was much too late my daughter said goodbye and met her sad fate my daughter lie broken.
I could hardly read it all, as it pained me to do so. Not because of the topic, but because you put about as much thought into that as one puts into picking their nose.
And apparently your not a poetry lover, because any poetry lover would know how to critises positively and correctly, not just by insulting it in the nonsensical fashion that you have adopted
why not critisise in a decent way then, saying that it has about as much thought as picking your nose says nothing about it
Everyone has their own opinions, I appreciate your comment.. even though I thought the way it was said was kind of mean.