Young Writers Society

Here--my fairy tale. Coaxing, smiling, you caress my quivering heart. Dazed by white dresses, I brace myself for what lies here with (without?) you. I tread the plush path, your ...

Shattered glass and screaming, and so many people searching for the exit. Panic-stricken faces fill the streets of New York. Heroes in many forms shape history today, but at a ...

Rushed moments in an adrenaline scramble for success, our kisses missing each other in an electrical storm between synapses and society. We, anger issues and beauty-chasing aside, are a passionless ...

As I sit and think about my life I think about how many lives I’ve ruined How I filled them with pure strife And don’t know why they didn’t make ...

Her family doesn't deserve her-- she's too kind-hearted. Her friends don't deserve her-- they never cared. Those boys do not deserve her-- they only want one thing. She deserves much ...

I don't want the phone to ring again, I don't want to hear you knocking on my door, No more notes taped to my desk, I just can't take them ...

Look at her, standing there alone in the corner, eyes to the floor. She's so pathetic. All she wants is your attention, isn't she so pitiful? Don't flood her with ...

Mister, you say "speak when your spoken to" But when i speak you have no time for answers. Mister, you say my answers make no sense. But the only sense ...

It stretched the length of life, an epitaph to thoughts. A monument to ingenuity that scaled the clouds Of luminescent glory – A gentle culler of the land and redoubt ...

Here's my second attempt at poetry, done as part of an English assignment. We had to write a dramatic monologue titled "Life is a ____" or "Life is Like a ...

Finally it is night, And he is turning me off. My battery is very low. He's pushed my buttons all day long. He inserts the charger: in, out, in, out. ...

With faded glory, the wet cement lies, muddied and spewed with gutter waste; cracks like spidery webs lining the gray, and moss with soggy tendrils inching forward. The flower, an ...

We had the world, you and I. It was ours, our very own, and we did with it what we wanted. When our friends moved away, we didn’t mind; they ...

Massive sacrifices to gloomy skies Offer deception at fingertips Of the wicked and shameful Metallic operas Pervert the sewer’s angels Flying with clipped wings Truth the beautiful wraith Blends wit

A five shot Remington with pump action and a plastic magazine is my only companion in these halls. These concourses of rejection - Ad nauseum. Barrels the size of quarters ...