Jun 2020
I am Sylvia Plath and decide to commit a suicide
Before night, before midnight, before any incident spoils my intention that goes totally upward, or any single communication proves it is life: generally moves on haphazard, neither do I want be introduced as a horrible criminal never been merciful to grandiose thought in keeping self magnified or words very elegance. Away… don’t look at me in this way since reality is so horrified, since I’m a goddess with only one eye lying beside the lake and playing with water flowing on the line of the green jungle what we call it life to shot the fingers on heavenly drops and sing the song of eternity to confess: I’m not as honest as other gods attached to the mirror of the wall with four eyes to reflect the realities of people of come and go, creating flickering and shaking atmosphere over my sights that makes me semi- blind when three other eyes remaining behind the mirror and one eye -goddess is not trustworthy enough in exposing the murmurings of the woman reposing on river side in pledge of tuning the song of solitude with silent outcry:
La La La La La La La La La *
My Love:
How creative you are, not cruel at all, just very creative in exploring the long distance between doves of love and very cunning in employing people to excavate a chasm of agony, torturer and blood between you and I… I’ me Sylvia Plath and decide to commit a suicide, before maroon crimson night, before children know what their mother really decide, before horrible fish rises abruptly inward to devour my heart or demolish all my beauties of ladylike in shadow of your last statement warned me “ for what you are still in dark?”
Dark! What a brilliant statement in the first and last and lost time, on duration of nights insomnia or feeling nausea when autumnal rain attacked the yellow red leaves to fall to forecast that unity is so far. When nights’ owl very kindly repeats your heart dark…dark…when the mirror broken, eyes spatter on all over the world, god and goddess remain eye less, completely blind, and our last reminder…your last medal on my heart still dark.
I am Sylvia Plath and decide to commit a suicide.
Before night, before midnight, before any incident spoils my intention that goes totally upward, or any single communication proves it is life: generally moves on haphazard, neither do I want be introduced as a horrible criminal never been merciful to grandiose thought in keeping self magnified or words very elegance. Away… don’t look at me in this way since reality is so horrified, since I’m a goddess with only one eye lying beside the lake and playing with water flowing on the line of the green jungle what we call it life to shot the fingers on heavenly drops and sing the song of eternity to confess: I’m not as honest as other gods attached to the mirror of the wall with four eyes to reflect the realities of people of come and go, creating flickering and shaking atmosphere over my sights that makes me semi- blind when three other eyes remaining behind the mirror and one eye -goddess is not trustworthy enough in exposing the murmurings of the woman reposing on river side in pledge of tuning the song of solitude with silent outcry:
La La La La La La La La La *
My Love:
How creative you are, not cruel at all, just very creative in exploring the long distance between doves of love and very cunning in employing people to excavate a chasm of agony, torturer and blood between you and I… I’ me Sylvia Plath and decide to commit a suicide, before maroon crimson night, before children know what their mother really decide, before horrible fish rises abruptly inward to devour my heart or demolish all my beauties of ladylike in shadow of your last statement warned me “ for what you are still in dark?”
Dark! What a brilliant statement in the first and last and lost time, on duration of nights insomnia or feeling nausea when autumnal rain attacked the yellow red leaves to fall to forecast that unity is so far. When nights’ owl very kindly repeats your heart dark…dark…when the mirror broken, eyes spatter on all over the world, god and goddess remain eye less, completely blind, and our last reminder…your last medal on my heart still dark.
I am Sylvia Plath and decide to commit a suicide.
On the basis of Sylvia Plath's life and her poem " Mirror".
