The Waiting Game (second edit)

[billy]

the edit is an improvement

no need for punctuation on the 1st line apart from a period. check your other lines for proper punctuation.

sort out the end rhyme using a proper rhyme scheme, which would mean sorting the verse out to be of the same line count. possibly quatrains, look out for forced rhymes. if need be don't go with end rhymes.

I know of the monsters you fear-
could then be

I know of your monsters

the 'you fear' part is forced and redundant, (of course some don't fear monsters but in general we're all shit scared of them, specially our personal ones. remove the cliche parts, change for original lines. it's good that your editing, this is how you learn to write poetry. well done.

Okay, so I've tried and tried to revise this poem, taking in the useful feedback I got. But I kind of feel that the first stanza, doesn't fit in. I'm pretty happy with the rest of the corrections I made, but it would really help me, to get another opinion on this. Thanks so much in advance

FIRST REVISE:
The Waiting Game

I wish to finish this puzzle, my dear-
Fill in the blanks, so all would be clear.
But I know you;
I know of the monsters you fear-
You wouldn't be ready to hear.

In our endless screaming,
We need something to believe in,
Something to stop it all,
To break our fall,
And make us tall.
But then again,
I ask, my friend:
A new beginning? A bloody end?
A demon’s femur, or Heaven sent?

I know it’s not our time,
To let our fevers grow,
A gnawing, clawing feeling,
Always asking “where to go?”
Must take it slow.

-----

This is a poem I wrote quite a long time ago. I know that it has a lot of cliches, abstractions and so on. The way it is now, it is not a good poem, in my opinion. I thought of revising it to 'rescue' it, but I can't decide, 'cause I'm not sure if there's enough to build on. I would greatly appreciate to hear another persons opinion. Thanks in advance

ORIGINAL:
The Waiting Game

I wish I could begin to tell you,
Just half of what needs to be told,
All the dreams to unfold,
And all that I have to withhold.

In endless screaming,
Something to believe in,
Something to stop it all,
To stop the fall,
And wake the crawl.
But then again,
I ask, my friend:
A new beginning? A bloody end?
A demon's femur, or Heaven sent?

I know it's not our time,
To see the curtains flow.
A winter, smiling backwards,
Always asking where to go,
Must take it slow.
(My vertigo,
Out of control,
Of things that matter,
And what to behold.)