Young Writers Society

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And here I thought I'd take this to my deathbed.

poem

sometimes i write poetry i dedicate to people and sometimes i just have to let it out in a screaming cry. this is the latter

girlhood n love n other silly things :)

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.

For anyone who has been told they aren't pretty.

what did i do to get here? so often i look at my past.

oh ok sorry, i said for the 3rd time, maybe i should just cut ties faster.

This poem is part of a story which I'm writing and will be posted later on.

A poem about societies standards on women.