What do you think of this poem I wrote? I think it might be a little off, so any suggestions will be appreciated.
Sick, gaudy and strewn
Across the lawn like too many filthy paper bags.
One by one, she hurries to dispose of them.
They get caught in the wind and swirl away.
Panic grows and a passionate hatred springs forth from within.
Dizzy and nauseous, she breaks down
While they observe in silence and confusion.
They see not the vile, all consuming pestilence
They see not the last fading remnants of her sanity.
They only see her,
A self-made mess,
Sprawled silently across the neat green grass.
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