poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

I love this poem. It has a frankness, an immediacy that really captures the essence of what it is to really live even in the midst of depression and emptiness.

This poem is quite sad, Sexton wrote it for the purposes of appeasing critics and publishers, feeling that she had to end her manuscript on a positive note. Despite the fact that this poem is, essentially, a lie, she still manages to be completely convincing. Kinda makes you wonder . . .