Young Writers Society

The truth behind who everyone assumes is a bright warm fire. But is instead a shadowy serpent.

When you are forced to hide what you really feel...

I had a random burst of inspiration the other day.

I have pondered on this question for a long time now...

My experience with fair-weathered friends composed into a poem.

the last letter, from the dying one to the loved one. what would you write to your beloved if you were in her position?

I was feeling a bit bored in class, thinking of stupid stuff like time and fun and stuff when I just picked up a pen and wrote this.

Just a thing I came up with while cycling home from Psychology tuition and seeing some nice little tulips.

Can we relate?

I regret falling in love with you...

Have you ever wished for time to pass quickly just so that you can escape from who you are right now?

Will he forget about she?

Thank you my Friends.

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

The stillness is too loud, The idleness rings in my ears. Though, what is heard? Not a sound. But just that fact reduces me to tears.