Young Writers Society

Life is like a path you walk down to get home Sometimes you walk with others Sometimes you walk alone Holding a head high will show your very proud even ...

The effervescence of my beer escapes my lips as my mouth parts and my eyes close It's as if the walls of the room conform to the shape of your ...

p.s. R-heehee What blasphemy is this- that rattles the earth's core the dogs howl, and cats meow as buildings shake and roar Who had the bright idea to make the ...

I liked the last stanza, but that was about it. I never understand your poetry anymore...I used to fanatically love it. But your style and writing has changed a lot, ...

here I am standing at your doorstep waiting for you wishing that the rose in my hand hadn’t died pedal by pedal each one falls to the ground as if ...

I always hated that cold, dead doll, The one with the straight-through stare, The one who sat aloft and watched, The one who couldn't care. She knows every sharp-edged secret, ...

you gave me nightmares about those emerald eyes: submerged in saturday-night delights, singing songs I never wanted to hear, filthy with the thought of seduction. in the crush of the ...

I liked this. I couldn't anticipate where it was going, but I felt guided along the way. Even with changes in time and place, your voice remains consistent. The canvas ...

If the chainsaw in my head cut through the night Could you sleep through it? Or would you wake discontented? If I showed you my truth, Could you accept it? ...

This feels like the same as your other recent poem, "Living Alone With Green Carpet" ... same subject matter? Anyway, I thought this fitted very well neatly together. You seemed ...

Thank god Brad for knocking some sense into me on this one. Well I've messed around with it some more and added a bit...well more than a bit. and thegirlwhofateloves: ...

I carved straight into him. His insides falling out Onto the ground. The smell was like Opening a trashcan. A funky, rotten smell. His goo made my hands Like a ...

I'LL KILL YOU IF YOU READ THIS. The Nun I STRANGLED WITH MY BARE HANDS Her name was Julia, she loved motorcycles, dreamed of making love for the first time, ...

Bleeding yellow roses That sprout and take root They grow into my life And slowly begin to take over I feel the pain Of the thorns stabbing into my temples ...

Stereos paint pictures with their vibrations,lighting up the atmosphere. But all you dois play sad songs until the air is heavy and you only breathe in evaporated tears.Several thousand years ...