Young Writers Society

A very sad poem about time and memories

collection three

Random poem about time that I randomly vomited out of my brain

About a clocktower ringing the twelve strokes of midnight

Maybe I am still in kindergarten. It’s just nap time. I will wake up soon and everything will be okay.

Saying that I hate who I am is saying that I hate who you made me to be.

a bunch of poetry ehehe

“Your pain made you strong,” she didn't need to be strong. She was a child.

poem

The Artist made their own work- or did they?

Don't cry, my little love, your first pain awaits you.

And I pray, with every part of my soul, that this message could be etched deeply into your tiny heart.

dear prey, who were you? dear hunter, who are you?

she was yesterday, gone now, only a whisper in the wind.

How is our identity affected by our human nature vs the nurture we receive? How does one love someone who no longer exists?