Young Writers Society

I wrote this poem a while ago, and I love it. However, everyone who has read it says something should be edited, it needs to be shortened. I have to ...

Here I sit alone. My complete undivided attention fixed upon your stage. I have officially bestowed my heart unto you, But you don’t even know that I think about you ...

This is poem is not about me, to prevent any "oh poor you" stuff. It's not about anyone I know either; it's just a "what if". I wrote it without ...

I slept a slumber of 20,000 days A beatitude of the thorns surrounding. As I was dreaming, you were beeding Like the spindle I pricked with my finger, Were the ...

you daont see the tears i cry, and i dont understand your lies, anymore than you love me! and on those hungry days i think of your evil ways, much, ...

The first stanza is good and solid poetry, though it's not quite up to the standards I'm used to getting from you. I do, however, absolutely adore: tired lips well-beaten ...

Folded page of a dream in my pocket Mingling in idiot fascinations Useless knowledge— Songs of distress and a plastic love Faceless bands, a neverending game Shallow characters in a ...

Dedicated to "Trinity Haley Marie Lewallen " aka "Bitty" "My Bitty" When I look into your eyes, all my troubles fly away Your love gives me hope and all the ...

Have Faith and stay strong When your days and nites seem so long Stressed and depressed, nothing goes right No hope left, nothing but dark in sight Tired of fighting ...

I've never been able to accept my life as it is; I feel I mustn’t. Always trapped within the thought of Night and Day, a concept that has always convexed ...

This is a poem I wrote last night in a random fit of inspiration. Hope you like it. The darkness of war It follows us From within ourselves From within ...

REMOVED. Thank you for all the comments.

Beneath eager shears lies a wolf Of which even Heaven cannot see This holy hellhound thrives amongst it's prey A serpent's assumtion builds a fortress of correctitude In the pits ...

A river – slowly, silently – dying Its cries for help can not be heard, for no one listens No one wishes to hold out a helping hand They all ...

Aspen. i. I remember the night of my birth. If I could pretend there were music playing in the background, it would be sad and distorted. [she looks over my ...