Young Writers Society

I wake up in the morning,Put on my smiling face.The one that's going to get methrough another dayDoesn't really matter,How I feel behind this mask.This life is like a game,That ...

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I dont know, it needs work i think but i'm not sure what to do with it. I lay my head to rest sleeping can caress my sins away. I ...

my heart pulses. in tune with the world(s) and their silent stories. my soul throbs, wrung with the emotion of a million men. characters. I hear the whispers of untold ...

Accelerando slows to Dolce, Harmonies blend in dancing rivers Notes swirl perfectly in rhythm, Then, in back, a drum beat pounds. Allegro, crescendo, forte, scherzo, Eighth notes flicker ‘round each

here we are, falling apart. apart from each other, ourselves. your eyes are holes, begging me - daring me? - we can't hold on (i can't let go). the romance ...

Aye, well. Criticism appreciated; I like the idea on this one, want to make it as good as possible. SAINT VALENTINE'S DAY MASSACRE Today I am the terrorist of love, ...

I'm not sure about this one, but it seems all right. her eyes began to water turning red from the pain it brought back memories of those who lost their ...

Flawless pale skin, Encasing a wild and crazy soul That leaks, Slowly but surely From the little slashes upon her wrist. A permanent crease, Above the eyebrows, (That tattletales on ...

Will it ever occur to you, -figuratively speaking- the sundown, which saluts the massive damp, The radiance exposing that coral tint, shatters the navy atmosphere? Take notice By the horizon ...

Dear Mom, I can’t come home, Not yet, And I know you’re angry at me For just taking off Like I did, But I swear, Mom, I’m working things out, ...

Poor supplicant begs at her master’s door for love; for she is tired and hungry, and one kind word will feed her for a month. Poor sorry girl, in bare ...

Look who is writing poetry again; ME! lamentation for priory girls give me your woven road, paper-daisy girl and your calloused-conclusions of devotion. he loves me, he loves me not...he ...

My dear, sweet Brooke Leighann So many times I've wished for your hand Your words were cruel but your touch was soft I’d give and I’d give but it was ...

It’s not cool to be popular anymore – ask anyone: if you’re pretty, you’re a bitch, if you wear make-up, you’re a slut, and don’t get me started on those ...