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Young Writers Society


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You should check for any Miss Spellings.
While you ponder this, enjoy a poem:


Resolve (1956)
by Sylvia Plath

Day of mist: day of tarnish
with hands
unserviceable, I wait
for the milk van

the one-eared cat
laps its gray paw

and the coal fire burns

outside, the little hedge leaves are
become quite yellow
a milk-film blurs
the empty bottles on the windowsill

no glory descends

two water drops poise
on the arched green
stem of my neighbor's rose bush

o bent bow of thorns

the cat unsheathes its claws
the world turns

today
today I will not
disenchant my twelve black-gowned examiners
or bunch my fist
in the wind's sneer.


I think the best thing about making it into the quote generator is when nobody tells you, so one day you're just scrolling and voila, some phenomenally inane thing that crawled out of your dying synapses and immediately regretted being born the second it made contact with the air has been archived for all time. Or worse, a remark of only average inanity. Never tell me when you've put me in the generator. Pride-tinged regret just doesn't taste the same without the spice of surprise.
— SirenCymbaline