Hi I wrote this poem, I would like someone to critique it and give me a finale rating so here it is:
He left me
She snarled at her reflection
Godd****t he left me for that b***h
Crusty bloodshot eyes from lack of sleep stared through her
Who even likes that skank anyway?
Everyone knows a real man likes a girl with red hair
All she had were strands of yellow yarn, and nobody liked that
She washed her hands, making sure not to leave a trace
A wicked smile appeared
Oh but darling, she mocked, she is just a friend
Yeah my a*s, FRIEND'S DON'T DO THOSE KINDS OF VILE ACTS
Her hand came in contact with the mirror
Shards of glass excitedly jumped from their whole form
Clinging to her face, piercing through her skin
But she didn't care
She had enough pain to last her a lifetime
Darling your hair is like the setting sun, so red, so beautiful
She laughed insidiously, remembering the lies
Well darling, you like red hair so much, have it
She muttered to herself as she left the house
Stepping over the mutilated body of the once blonde girl
Hair now red from her own blood

Nature's first love is life
Her most fragile piece of art
Crafted for those lucky enough to earn it
But only so a short while
Will her work start to change
Then life subsides to life
As death took this precious gift
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay

Haha I think that's what you were looking for :/ sorry if it isn't

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

just thought i'd give it a shot, took about five/ten minuets so don't worry about being harsh, it's not my life;s dream or anything.... if it's rubbish, it's rubbish hey ho!

There are stones in my stomach
Grinding against my spine
And the flowers I tend to in my brain,
A little more benign

They push, with hope, in to the earth
With desire to heal and flourish
But something cold resides down there
So my heart, it can't be nourished

Left and dressed do not rhyme.
In order for a pair of words to rhyme, they must have the same ending.
Example: leak, screak.

Some exceptions like flower and hour rhyme.

I write in many different styles, but I have no idea where to submits poems that are just a handful of lines long. To get a better idea of the style I m referring too, look up the Danish poet, Piet Hein.

Thanks!