Young Writers Society

City lit by firefliesLightning bugs of commerceFloating along the sky line It’s a city full of sparkling lights That inhabits ...

C’est un jour de petites merveilles [This is a day of little wonders] A Cigarettes burning at both ends kind ...

Paris is une vest l'égère which is silkypurple, chocolatebrown, creamybrick. laughing with a synthetique blonde flirt just makes me want ...

(I need a new title, I need help, I need to stop writing poetry) Every sunset I stroll on home ...

Ok me and Hunter were talking one night and he was sad so I said this and he said I ...

when it all falls down like an emotional waterfall a cornucopia of drowning dreams and all you have left is ...

I have not come up with a title for this title I thought the eternal light inside my soul would ...

this rotting place will turn to black soon the sun has bled its way to sleep behind the jagged edges ...

Please just kill this thing. I wouldnt mind some advice on the structure either. I just want to die. End ...

there once was a mongolian barbecue where two old ladies sat in their rocking chairs to drink steam tea every ...

flood, selfish thoughts and wishes, just a flash of name gives desire. attach perverted thoughts for such a small infatuation. ...

I feel so...teenagerish. So very very teenagerish. Urgh. I hate it when i feel like that. But, here it is. ...

...sometimes I really do think I hate you. Beautiful. Lovely. Deep. Meaningful. Only problem is with the second stanza, did ...

The blade cuts through her skin, Like glass shattering on rock, Finding it’s too hard, She can’t stop, Wrist so ...

To The Sound Of Tuesday The twilight forced itself on the surroundings, and paper was the resistance. Lighting a fire ...