Young Writers Society

Never again, never again, Will I succumb to the back of your hand, Forever bruised, Scars you will never see. I tried to burn these lies but they keep coming ...

And I swear I wont let you win again, the angels above bleeding for you, the pearly white gates of perfection Covered in roaring fire of hate And I can't ...

i've had a lot of people like this but i've never been satisfied with brutally honest When she's just talking to me And it feels like she's SCREAMING IN MY ...

one night your window was open so i sat on the sill and watched you try to sleep i told you that i could fly you out of this place ...

It was beautiful and it hurt. Love and hate. The borders of the plainest page Cut me off. I promised I wouldn’t write about you And never mention your name. ...

are they over, these salad days? instead of blues and pinks is it now blacks and greys? because i thought i heard a scream last night. a blood-curdling scream, sounding ...

Here's my poem all ready for the nice critiscm it's going to be put through. Oh woe what have I done! Lol, enjoy! I’m sitting here believing, I’m bleeding, And ...

This poem contain mythical allusions and are from Ovid's Metamorphasis. Hense the title. Its a great classic work that has been overlooked in favor of such plays and epic poems ...

Can you hear me now I have nothing left to lose I'm naked and broken my scars shinning in the moonlight I'm so tired of fighting each day just to ...

I know there's a movie called Waiting to Exhale, though I've never seen it, and the title captured my interest. So I wrote something and used that title. Thanks to ...

echo clinks of water on chains of concrete forming slivers of the false world false world which can't sing you in your silver shoes with the silver rain leaving metallic ...

Trying a different form...I quite like it. Stream-of-consciousness-ish. Definitely promotes inspiration, anyway. Transience a footprint in the sand or the imprint of a fingertip in the icing of a cake, ...

to gouge this grainy wind which walks so free, (proving life's existence with no intermittance) would be so icily cruel, like the bladed sun which shakes and breaks the gossamer ...

This is rather awkward for me. I've never posted on this board or asked for contructive critism on a poem. Well, here goes nothing. He stands at your side Your ...