Poem critics, give me your idea on a not finished poem?

Question

Right now the title is cold winter, but they may very well change
its not done, the words in the ( ) i am still not sure which one i want to use

i am still considering turning it into a rhyming poem, but i am not sure

so i just want to know your opinion what more you might like to see, if you like where it is going
and should i try to make it rhyme 
Thanks



Cold winter

So many things inside of me
So many unwanted things inside of me
So many broken things inside of me

So many things stealing me
So many unwanted things stealing me
So many things inside of me stolen

So many things raping me 
So many unwanted things raping me
Too many things inside of me broken

I cover my ears to stop the pain
The pain is too loud, turn it down she screams
She screams at them
The sound resonates in the eardrum 
If only she would scream for me
If only she was me
Of only I could scream

Everything is breaking around her
They are changing me, she says
Turning the real in to fake
My once live body, turned into a mockery of a human
A doll unable to move under its own power
A mannequin unable to speak with its own voice
I am no longer mine

I try to control the puppet 
But her limbs always breaking
It hurts my fingers
I try to sew them back on, but there is no more thread
Try to cry puppet 
Try to feel puppet
Feel me, I am still here
I put what is left of my fingertips, to what is left of her face
Try to pull our broken pieces together 

Her eyes search the ceiling 
While I lie inside myself; hold myself with what arms are left
Laughter resonates in the ear drum; I
t rapes me, rapes me, rapes me
I coddled what was left of myself 

Bruises turns the plain porcine skin (brown/ dirty)
Turns the once beautiful into a nightmare 
A nightmare I lie awake at night a dream
Beatings turns the smooth, jagged, 
the edges cut all those who try to touch; 
try to help
Fear of getting cut, they don’t see it
Fear turns it invisible, fear turns me invisible, they have turned me invisible

If they no longer see me, then I no longer exist?
Kill me she begs
Why have a voice when no one hears it?
The empty sound resonates in the eardrum
If only she would die for me
If only she was me
If only I could die

There is nothing left inside of me
They have taken it all, there is nothing left to steal
In the mind they will always be raping me

© ♪♫♪ tori ♫♪♫ · Accepted Answer

I think it could be a powerful, emotive poem, but it needs work. There is no constant meter, making it difficult to read aloud, which is how I read poetry. It has depth with a profusion of interpretations. My first reaction is that there are too many redundant words; I lost my mental involvement as I read the same words over and over and began to skip sections. 

Going from "I" to "She" leaves an unexplained gap. This may be your purpose. "I" retreat into my shell and "she" takes over; handling situations as in a dissociative identity disorder (DID). I was diagnosed with this disorder about 20 years ago. There were times "I" did disappear and a new identity would maintain life. It was advantageous until all of the "people" grew in awareness of each other, and the blackouts became unbearable.

Your poetry took me on a DID route, and that tells me it is a powerful, thought-provoking poem. I started to edit, but I'm not sure I should. If you would like me edit and make suggestions, drop me a note and I will edit this answer to see if I can give you wise advice. Always remember though, my Point of View (POV) doesn't mean it is the right POV. Selwa's thoughts are as important as mine.

The poem may be perfect as written. Also because of the DID issue, I may not be able to let myself into your poem. You probably have no idea what it takes to bring up DID for a person who is as integrated as I ever will be. Please take this as a very high compliment.
~~~~~~~~
Cold winter

So many people live inside of me
They hide the unwanted memories
So I am not broken by the horrors
~~~~~
It is very hard for me to retrieve the black box of hidden knowledge; I don't want to remember more events than I have. 

One week of high school is still hidden. I "woke" up in a Spanish class with no memory of being there for a week. I knew it was a week, but now I realize it could have been longer. Before the blackout, the teacher was nice to me; afterwords, she was so terrible that I dropped the class. How did "I" treat her? Why is that time gone? How many other blank spots are still there? I don't know. 

I hope this much helps you. You have a monumental task. My counselor asked several times that I write a book about "me", but I just cannot do so.

I like your title. t

luong · Answer

It turns out that a few can not face the bloodless, however relaxation confident she's courageous and he or she's daring..... :-) Her little voice, it whispers sweetly, "hiya daddy," she stated so meekly. As the aromatic crammed ocean protects the pearl, Love sat at the stairs, his darling little woman. "Have a laugh." :-)

Anonymous · Answer

Please no, i love it, its beautiful, one of the best ive heard. i cant find anything to criticize!

its such a sad, flowing, clever poem that i adore

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Poem critics, give me your idea on a not finished poem?

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