Young Writers Society

something i suppose

Hmm, why are blue eyes so special?

This is my response to modern-day social media and the rise of Romanticism

I'd Like to Speak to the Writer of My Life is a poem that I have written, intended to have originally been sung, about wanting a boring, mundane life.

the mind is a great servant but a terrible master

'A Girl Called February' they said. Everyone said, 'It's probably her name.' Little did they know that I meant something else.

When I am claimed And my friends live on Faucet eyed mothers Gather by a blank stone

The humming of the sound machine sounds like the beach of my childhood.

Drowning only hurts until you stop fighting.

A poem depicting what it feels like when the only person you want to talk to goes silent.

An interpretation of love from a few years back.

Who am I and who are you?

A 3 am poem on some of the hardships myself, and I assume, other people have gone through.

Reflecting on the past *TriggerWarning*

Have you ever felt you were too much?