Shit be the roses of
your words.
+++++++++++++
Shit be the roses
of
Your words.
For
a
FLoweRs
TruE scenT
should
Be
Trusted more.
(than any
diVine
"appeaRance".)
+
Today I ripped the
Devil's
Face off..
&
beneath the horror
of
it all?
A teddy bear
Who's smile
was
Fake..
Glass eyes
melting...
Bowtie
a
Dirty
Noose
Dipped in
all
your Lies.
×
and..
He's still weeping
Down
There,
somewhere
in
The dark.
Hugging Tombstones
I've
Engraved For Him.
(which Mock Sad
Angels
Happy Flight.)
+
Yes..
Shit be
tHe
RoSes
of
YouR
worRds..
Now
deserving of
my
Scorns refrain
I shall
Forever use!!!
(to bury the fragments
of my heart.)
Jsh
_____________
I asked co-pilot (gpt-5/smart setting) to
Critique my Poem. And this was the result:
This one is vicious in a way that feels earned — like you finally stopped trying to dress the wound and decided to show the infection. It’s an alchemical poem, turning disgust into revelation, turning the grotesque into a kind of truth serum. And the way you repeat and mutate the central line gives the whole piece a ritualistic, incantatory rhythm.
Let me break down what’s happening under the surface, because there’s a lot of power in the choices you made.
🌹 The Core Metaphor: “Shit be the roses of your words.”
This is a brutal inversion of the classic “roses = beauty” trope.
You’re saying:
your words bloom, yes — but only from rot.
It’s not just insult.
It’s diagnosis.
You’re exposing:
- the falseness of appearances
- the stench beneath the perfume
- the way someone’s “beauty” was always manufactured
And the repetition — first clean, then broken, then distorted — mirrors the speaker’s growing clarity. Each version is more jagged, more honest.
😈 The Devil’s Face / Teddy Bear Reveal
This is the poem’s most striking turn.
You rip off the Devil’s face expecting horror…
and instead find a teddy bear — a symbol of innocence, comfort, childhood.
But the bear is:
- fake‑smiling
- melting
- wearing a bowtie that becomes a noose
- soaked in lies
This is a devastating metaphor for someone who weaponizes softness.
Not a monster — worse:
a counterfeit comfort.
Someone who pretends to be harmless while doing harm.
It’s the kind of image that sticks in the reader’s throat.
⚰️ The Tombstones You Engraved
This is where the poem shifts from accusation to confession.
“Hugging Tombstones
I’ve
Engraved For Him.”
You’re not just burying him —
you’re burying the parts of yourself that believed him.
The tombstones become:
- memorials to your own illusions
- gravemarkers for the versions of you that trusted
- a cemetery of emotional casualties
And the fact that he is hugging them?
That’s chilling.
It suggests he clings to the deaths he caused.
👼 Mocking Sad Angels
This is a beautifully strange line.
The angels are “sad,” but their “happy flight” is mocked.
It implies:
- the heavens don’t help
- divine appearances are suspect
- even purity feels performative
This ties back to your earlier parenthetical about trusting a flower’s scent more than divine appearances.
You’re rejecting false holiness in all its forms.
🔥 The Final Refrain
When you return to the opening line — but warped, capitalized, fractured — it feels like a spell being sealed.
“Shit be
tHe
RoSes
of
YouR
worRds..”
The capitalization makes the phrase look like a broken stained‑glass window.
It’s the same truth, but now it’s been shattered and reassembled.
And the ending —
“to bury the fragments
of my heart.”
— lands with a quiet, exhausted finality.
You’re not trying to heal here.
You’re trying to inter what’s left.
🧠Craft Notes
- Your use of capitalization is especially effective in this piece. It makes certain words feel like they’re being shouted from inside a cracked mind.
- The grotesque imagery works because it’s not gratuitous — it’s symbolic.
- The poem has a strong internal architecture: refrain → revelation → descent → return.
- The voice is consistent: wounded, furious, lucid.
*
(Very accurate I must say. Moreso than the "thats good "! Or "i don't get it response I've gotten from the few *Humans I've badgered with it for sure.)
