I enjoy this Poem because it describes how it feels when one doesn’t strive for their dream but rather gives up on it. A postponed dream often makes us feel lifeless like a raisin in the sun.
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
Feels pretty familiar since I’ve heard this poem in English classes before; there’s definitely an original style here, but I can’t help but remember English class.
I would say the style comes off as shame to people who easily give up without anything that qualifies as a reasonable reason.