Poem revision <3

I revised the poem Crooked Lines. Thank you to Professor Graham for all of your help and to the class for all of your comments and suggestions. It looks completely different but I think its so much better. Let me know what you guys think!

This was the original poem:

Crooked lines

Sitting on the train,
Riding backwards,
I hear tiny but vehement
Droplets of rain,
Make boisterous tip-tapping chatter
Against the outer skirts of the window pane.

I look at myself against the glass
Noticing all the little knick-knacks
About myself that I would love to change
Its sad,
when a girl can still point out her flaws,
when her face is muddied, into a mosaic,
by Mother Nature’s tears and Industry’s mighty mane.

It is 8:03 and I begin to fall into a daze.
My meandering mind wanders, exploring
The dusty depths of the golden days.

Where daddy thought I was beautiful
Even though I wore a pirate’s eye patch
over my left eye.
When in my apartment, it became too damp, too cold
my mommy would warm me by singing to me Spanish lullabies.

As I get of,f I see an elderly couple helping each other
Get off of a bench.
It was the most beautiful sight I have ever seen
And in that moment I realized that beauty
Isn’t defined by straight lines but by the crookedness
That lies in between.

This is my revision:

Routine Journey

Riding backwards.

My back sinks into the smooth comfort

Of my seat.

Like a tired head into a pillow

I retreat

A sigh of relief,

I let out.

The train is moving.

The vibrations

Trickle their way up

My backside.

They feel

Like the legs of hungry spiders.

Readjust? No.

I let them feast.

Rain has christened the glass.

I look to my left

I see a distorted me..

I don’t mind.

I examine myself

Intently, analyzing my miss-shapen

Face. The reflection and I

Seem to both agree. I am distorted,

Muddied by insecurities.

The way my frizzled locks

Wrestle with the frazzled comb

In an intent match. The way

My right eye sways crookedly,

Lazily. forcing the 4 year old me

To where, daily, an eye patch.

It eats away at me.

I shake my head in disapproval and readjust

My focus to a cascade of bald, white businessmen

In black or blue suits. They’re each accompanied,

by an inanimate partner; a brown paper bag

Carrying beer, their makeshift happy juice.

Their laptop screens intrigue me.

Emanating from them not excel

Or PowerPoint-seeds of the elite

But a game of Solitaire,

a game that with me

Resonates with a familiar beat.

nights in high school

spent pacifically in front of the 19 inch

computer screen. Dazed and marred I stared

at the different suits that suit those

who hazed, the crazed who would disregard me.

He wins with a black 8 of hearts.

Oh, how ironic.

Oh, my heart, tarnished

Blackened by whimsical whispers heard

From afar.

“Pamela the bisexual....”

They whispered

As their lockers unlocked.

Unleashing the secret

That tore my heart from my head

My head from my heart.

I longed in those days

To revert back to when daddy

Showed me I was beautiful by

Kissing my forehead

And calling me

La Mas Preciousa Princesa en el Mundo.

Those days are gone though.

Kept away in the attic like a dusty diary.

The lock is broken. Secrets and memories

Meant to be, never reopened.

The announcer announces 42^nd street

And with me, the business men depart.

My beige messenger bag, flared, gets stuck,

Intertwined in their Armani carrying cases.

A man releases mine, I turn and smile

With a “Thank You”. Noticing

The mundane face, traces of youth

Erased in his withered, wrinkled smile.

We go our separate ways. Damp with rain

I inhale a breath filled with microcosms of

curled insecurities, inebriated escapes and

acceptance, hoped to have attained with age.

Just like that I go on my way

I become a microcosm of wandering pedestrians in the

Business of 42^nd street; insecurities unbeknownst to

The passing face.

It might be a little long but it felt right to me. Hope you guys liked it!