Young Writers Society

How can you hurt so badly, Yet no one knows how bad, You let it build inside you, until you erupt, and can't take it, You put the gun to ...

Anyone who reads my poetry on the site knows that I am not a very good poet. Here's my final attempt at poetry, I swear. I'm just trying to get ...

the clouds were bleeding acid rain and they sprayed graffiti with messages of love the walls were illuminated in the moonlight and they recycled broken hearts for the poor with ...

Pretty darn me it felt like a trip of self-realisation well-portrayed, without getting stuck in long words.

Hey, Morgan, I don't know if you even remember this, it was a couple days before my birthday.... Third Place in TYWC Poetry Contest... hehe. If you're mad that I ...

Enjoy. Poetica Only one breath to take in the lights, we found what no one else ever wanted. Alive and well and nearly there, this reminds me of a saying ...

I hate poetry! It throttles the soul of writing And forces the words to come out Then it warps them further till they’re Twisted hopelessly beyond help. I hate poetry! ...

(No preamble. Here's my sonnet) Are you sorry for everything you said, And all the things you forgot to say too, When everything got so complicated, And you said I ...

what do you call it when another guy's arm is hugging you close, under a single umbrella, when it's pouring down? and you love the rain so you try to ...

So this is the time of teenage kicks Let’s all go out and get pissed There's time to learn, and time to grow But we're not afraid to let feelings ...

NOTE: If you haven't already read it, I would encourage you to read this: forum/viewtopic.php?t=1377&start=0&postdays=0&postorder=asc&highlight=summer+aint+reality before reading the following poem. -

you always pray for thunderstorms the night before so tomorrow's skirmishes are a foregone conclusion your wallet is full of useless notes and a collection of slowly decaying pennies that ...

why does it matter what goes on in your room on the side of the bed that no one sees? does it matter if you're alone and writing of a ...

silk of different pastels hooks its sharp, roughly-cut edges into my eyes, plunging down to my irritated, scarlet core. plates of exotic entrees and arms around shoulders and bright wooden ...

Running, Falling, Feral gong, Mistic, Morbid, Haunting song. Pheonix feather, Sprightly elf, Dishes, Falling, Off the shelf. Shattered, Broken, Beyond repair, Words unsaid, And things unfair. Cold and