Young Writers Society

It walked down the empty street Windows, shut tight before its passing; Only slices of light made it to the road. It bounced up and down slightly as it walked ...

If I beg you not to leave will you stay with me and believe, in stories of Santa’s reindeer that you whispered in my ear. This is our compassionate moment ...

An angel now sings to me sweet sweetly? Eather works though. telling me, to just breathe. I love this stanza so much. It made me catch my breath. Nicely done! ...

"The thing is Mom. Your opinion hold no value in my eyes, nor does your preacher’s or your husband’s. I will be whatever I want to be. I will be ...

I know this is a very raw poem, but its from the heart? Loves for the birds in the trees, but babe I don’t know, if I could stand the ...

Parting of souls where we all come together mourning for the wretched soul. Sinners alike to shed their judgement letting it fall into our laps A massacre of hate. Hypocrites ...

She came as a warrior, and left as a child. Failure that flooded her dream tacked her down to evil. Her heart seemed mild but inside it screamed for the ...

I am only one of billions Can he see me? I am only a fruitless tree, yet I receive his love. I am not a flawless soul, I have not ...

The coding is messed up, but this is an acrostic poem. Hell rolled out on angel's wings in an Ignorant search for her. Depths they searched, leaving her Dying to ...

F reedom, let it ring I nvitation to my freak G iving up to the power of your mind H eat me until I boil, T rouble and toil. M ...

The italicize isn't working, but everything Zach wrote should be. Zach sat at the computer thinking of what he would say, how he would present it, and how he would ...

Zach sat at the computer thinking of what he would say, how he would present it, and how he would let it out. After all these months of planning he ...

I won’t give up, however F raction of you fills an I ndent in me, G athering all my rage. H urting me over and over T hough I won’t ...

Poetry is... P ictures made of emotions; O ptions are endless. E very idea must be heard T hrough a single, organized mess. R eality morphed into dramatized fiction Y ...

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