Peer Review by zaid ilyas (India)

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Crushed Wings Can't Fly

By: Vin

So I guess there’s a war
I have to win.
I guess there’s this void
I have to fill,
or maybe it’s time to go down to the gates
of hell
and beat on them until someone comes,
comes to tell me my lot,
how many battles I have fought,
how many I still have left
to lose.
Maybe from the lips of a demon
it will not seem like so much,
and I will take the leap,
the plunge,
no matter if my wings are crushed.
But crushed wings
can’t fly,
though I may be small.
Watch me
The void is dark, but dark does not describe
the weight or feel
of nothing,
dark does not describe the press and ache
of nothing,
dark does not describe
the inky air that steals my breath to turn me
into nothing.
In the void lurk shapes.
I feel them as I fall,
and twist so as not to feel,
and writhe
trying desperately not to see,
because I know the things that lurk
inside of me,
and they are terrible.
My wings are no use.
They strain and reach,
but crushed wings
can’t fly,
only flail in the darkness.
The fall is nearly over now,
the bottom in sight.
Watch me
A battlefield is not a soft place to land,
and there is no one here
who will stop
to lend me a hand.  
Not even the ones who fight on my side,
for they are too busy keeping me
to consider my comfort.
If they were to falter we would drown,
they and I.
I see no way off this battlefield,
this place of blood
and bone,
where my mind once made
a home
but I now ache to escape from.
I yearn to fly free of this body,
out of this place of war
and carnage.
Crushed wings
can’t fly.
But I am stubborn.

Watch me

Message to Readers

I've been struggling with chronic illness for almost three years now, and I'm pretty sick of writing about it, but this poem sort of crept up on me spontaneously and wanted to be written, so I humored it. I hope you'll do the same for me.

Peer Review

I feel charged up like a berserker before a battle

I think you have done justice to the poem on the front of language, but I would like to see more of your illustration of the battlefield, even though this poem main focus was your struggle

The void is dark, but dark does not describe
the weight or feel
of nothing.

the inky air that steals my breath to turn me into nothing.

These lines I like the most, as I myself have pondered upon nothing and it seems to me you have done a great work separating nothing from void and darkness which are sometimes termed as nothing but nothing is much more than that and you told it just on the mark.

Your poem already seems to be well drafted but I think you can make it better by working on the first paragraph

Reviewer Comments

I love the topic you have chosen and the way you tell about your war against your disease. But most I loved was the illustration of how chronic illness affects one's mind more than one's body. I too have written a writeup on the feeling of nothingness 'Circus of reality'. Will love to hear your thoughts on it.