Here you go, have fun critiquing (is that how you spell it?) my thing that's not really a poem but I put it in here anyway.
I'm not sure that the layout is meant to be make sense or be any good but hey. I'm experimenting.
Outside, the sun is shining and there are children
running up and down the quiet street,
Screaming with excitment.
Ice-creams melt in your hands and run all the way down your arms, and you have to
Jump and Dive into the ocean to get it off, letting the cool salt water splash over your head.
The animals are all sleeping in
the shadiest spot they can find, stretched out long with their
Pink tongues hanging limply from their open mouths.
It is summer and time means little.
~.~
Inside, I sit.
Alone and frozen
Cold.
I feel as though my hands will snap off and
Fall to the ground with a 'BANG'
at any moment.
My eyes are constantly blurred by short
Streams of salty liquid that rolls slowly down my pale cheeks, curving
over each frail bone.
I try to sleep but every time I lower
My eye lids over my white and solid eyes, I begin to see visions
Of my past.
Too scared to dream, I curl up in to the tightest
ball that I possibly can and pray to god to free me
From this never-ending torture.
It is summer, and time means everything.