The World of Honesty

So, I have written another poem.  This one just kind of came to me about twenty minutes ago.  Therefore, it’s probably rough and sort of bad.  But I don’t really know how to edit poems.  Usually I have to let them sit for a few weeks or so before I can even look at them in an impartial manner.  Which is weird, because I’m usually wonderful at bleeding all over my work.  Anyway, if you think this poem is horrible, or you have any tips to help my writing out a smidgen, please, please let me know.  But enough nonsense.  May I present, The World of Honesty, written by myself.  Enjoy!

Buried below the surface of materialism and deceit,
There is a place where the truth cannot be hidden,
For the light of honesty is stronger than any lie;
It cannot be dulled by the horrors of today.

Within this place, where the flowers grow,
There is a magic that cannot be named,
Lying in the heart of every child
That stumbles upon this place.

This great, mighty world
Leaves no uncertainty
To what is wrong,
And what right.

To find,
One has to
Open their soul
To a wonderful place
Where mighty bells toll
And beautiful flowers grow.

Look for this world in a hidden room
A deep trap, a black hole, a disappearing gloom,
For this place, like the truth, is not always easy to find,
But once it is discovered, it cannot be mistaken by you or me.

I don’t really have anything else to say.  But I would really love some constructive advice on my writing.  Any and all of it.  So please, if you’re feeling editorish, tell me what I need to do! Thanks!

Claire Marie

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