Young Writers Society

Light weight so deceiving; full of black squiggles-- supposedly with meaning. Sharpe edge cuts the skin; a small red bubble like the prick of a pin. Staring down the suspect ...

My fingers flutter. The keys glisten with the color of age – Yellow. Yellow like the sun, That casts light on the music. Each note is lovely and perfect in ...

Father, I am afraid I will never make you proud, I am not the perfect child you sought hard to protect and guide, I have chosen to do things you ...

Lyndsey Loves Daphne Loves Derby written January 16, 2007 I hate you and your broad shoulders pompous mouth big word collection and what does that even mean anyway when you ...

turn me inside out I'v been there a life that no one wants I can't wait till this feeling goes away the pain and stress don't call me crazy you ...

Help it. Please ***--*** "it's been another bad day," you admit, as you fashion broken words out of skin and veins so deeply blue. convinced of your lack of conviction, ...

We lay there Your arms around me Skin so soft Body so warm But you're no survivor It almost feels good Knowing I can Pleasure you like that But I ...

Everything can change in the blink of an eye. Life may be gone, destiny could alter. One might lose it all, another could gain. You can make this world and ...

A jiucy fine pineapple hops along my way, I stop to ask what brings you here astray? Well, i'm all grown up and i'm here to bright and shine, well, ...

All my life I knew you you were more than a friend you were my brother you were always there when i needed you i used to joke that you ...

I was bored so I was thinking of funny stuff and this is what I came up with: Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today to say our goodbyes. I ...

Don't mind the dedication; it's totally an inside joke. Also, this is my first official attempt at a poem, so feel free to rip me apart in order for me ...

Another creepy poem by me. Again, it starts out short. I'm not sure I can do any more to it, like I could with Child. But if someone asks.... I'll ...

Music stirs on the trembling blades of grass, a symphony erupts on evening's folded head. Melodic whispers from the swaying reeds, drunk on dew that hangs from budding leaves. Bull ...

The time of night when phantoms bleed into the shade of blackness And whispers of forgotten lives swirl round among the streets A girl with somber ecstacy and tortured thoughts ...