Analysis of New



My thick skin has died and been shedded and shredded.

What now remains, is the truth.

The real me.

A human being.

When I take away what I guard myself with, what I label myself as, what I think Iam.

I realize that I'm only human.

And From now on, that is what, this world, is getting.

I couldn't keep wearing a mask, It was upsetting.

It was concealing my heart.

It left a void when I took it off.

When people weren't around to glance.

My face would go from, stern and hard.

To hurt and scarred.

Then feeling hollow, would follow, that sorrow.

For too long I suffered, trying to hide it.

Fighting to keep it from centre view.

But I've got nothing to hide anymore.

Nothing to fight anymore.

My ego, my anger, my hatred, my negative attitude, isn't confined inside anymore.

Isn't intertwined and entwined in a war, with my life and my mind anymore.

My light assured that.

My light ensured that, I weren't on a course to crash.

Because it is, like the light, from a lighthouse, guiding me.

Showing me the danger, so I could steer clear of it in good time and sail back in the right direction.

Back on track with my life.

And nothing to derail it and put me on edge.

I'm not living on the brink anymore.

After many dawn's and many dusks.

After many yawns and many huff and puffs.

I managed to climb back up and out, so that I stood on the cusp.

Between my downfall and uprise.

In that moment, I chose the latter and walked ahead.

I rose the ladder and ascent.

Way high, like a balloon, through no gray skies, I was over the moon.

Nothing was going to pop my happy thought bubbles.

I settled in a strong branch and made myself a cocoon and came out of it brand New.

A Man who beat his troubles.

All his worries flew the nest.

No cuckoo pest was going to invade his head.

It soon became, as light as a feather.

Now he can float through life, with nothing to weigh him down.

He severed all ties, to what was holding him back and restraining him like a strait jacket.

His cast has been broken.

He's shattered the glass, of the mirror, he would look at, as he past, in the past.

That has now passed.

He's moved on.

Here's in the here and now.

He sees things clearer now.

Love is near now.

He cleared out, what was old.

what was of no use to him.

To make space for something new.
 


Scheme X X A B A C B B X X D E E X X F G G G G X X A C X X G D X X X H X X I F I X H X X X C J J X K K K X X F
Poetic Form
Metre 11111011010 1101101 011 01010 11101111111110111111 110111010 011111111110 1101100111010 1101011 110111111 110100111 11111101 1101 11010110110 11111010111 101111101 111101101 101101 11011011011001010010101 1000100100111101101 11011 1101111010111 0111101101101 1010101111111011011001010 111111 010101101111 111010101 101010101 10101010101 1101111011111101 0111010 0110110100101 11010001 1110011111111001 1011011110110 11000110110010111111 0111110 1110101 11111010111 1101111010 1111111101111 1101111110110010110110 111110 1100110101111111001 1111 111 100101 111101 1111 111111 1111111 1111101
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 2,346
Words 547
Sentences 53
Stanzas 52
Stanza Lengths 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1
Lines Amount 52
Letters per line (avg) 33
Words per line (avg) 8
Letters per stanza (avg) 33
Words per stanza (avg) 8
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Written on July 02, 2024

Submitted by on February 08, 2024

Modified by on March 07, 2024

2:47 min read
33

Messenger

I've been Writing since 2018. I prefer to call myself a writer than a poet because I write many styles of literature. I've never limited myself to just one way of using the pen. I love all kinds of writing. Most of all, I just see what I do as simply expressing my self through words and I don't really categorize my work in or to any specific genera. more…

All Messenger poems | Messenger Books

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