Young Writers Society

Gray.

That's how she saw the world. Everyday was a storm for her.
Even when she tried to pull her jacket tighter she still felt cold.
Everyday this storm compiled on her even more and she did nothing wrong.
Nothing at all but the storm was still there, at school, in her house, and inside her mind.
The storm was her master, she was the little lost dog.

Then, one day, the sun came.
Out of nowhere, brightness peered out and the storm left.
She then saw no longer a colorless world, but a world with color.
A world with happiness, a world with rainbows falling on her like raindrops, a world with...
Sun.

And that sun was me.
I was her sun, and she was one of my rays smiling with me.
Everyday was no longer a challenge, but a simple pleasure.
I didn't really think that what I did was a major thing, but words can't describe what it meant for her.
For the first time, she felt-

Warmth.
She felt this tingling sensation of love, joy, and laughter.
I had taught her how to smile again.
I myself felt amazing for being her sun and I knew I'd be her sun forever.

At least I thought I'd be...

Then, there was the storm.
The storm was extremely- lustful.
I hate to admit it, but sometimes I had this deep desire to be a part of the storm.
The storm was just, mesmerizing to my eyes.
I knew that the storm was bad, but my temptation just ate me away bit by bit.
I became a part of the storm. And not just for a day or two.
Years. For years I was no longer a sun but a storm.

After many many years I found myself walking one day, just walking.
Not realizing my life was about to change within the next few minutes.
I saw something flickering in an old worn down building.
Thinking it might be something amusing I went in the building toward the flickering light.
The flickering light was growing brighter and brighter until I finally saw the horror that awaited me.
In a cold pitch dark room there was a tiny little flame from a matchstick
And I could the ghostly outline of a person in the room.

Out of nowhere the fire place turned on, And there she was.
The girl whom I had brought so much joy, was know all sucked away into a black hole.
So forlorn, so much misery in her whole body that it brought me weak to my knees
In her hand, was a single matchstick inches away from her throat.
"No," I pleaded. "Don't." My tone cracked, my mind wasn't thinking right "Please, I'm sorry."
I knew sorry couldn't help anything. All these years, I was roaming free and she was in a prison cell.

She did not say anything at all. With each moment passing by, the matchstick came closer and closer to her throat until-
The next movement of her arm would be the last movement of her life.
"I promise you, I will never leave you again, just please don't do this."
She looked me in the eye. My eyes turned bloodshot. Such a fierce and upsetting look.
She only said a few words but those few word changed my life forever

"The only thing worse than a storm is a sun that goes dark, that turns its shadow on you,
A black sun. And that is what you are."
With that the match touched her neck, and she was gone.
The little flame took over her body and turned her into ashes.
"NO!!!!" I scereamed so mournfully against the raging fire "NO!!!!"
No matter how hard I screamed no one could hear it.

I held her ashes as the seeped through my hand
Black. They were.
Black. A black sun. And after these many years thats what I was.
I had turned into an evil demon of a monster.
I was living in some kind of fantasy, a dream. And I believe I had just woken up.
It wasn't her that just died but the sun in me did too.
I grew out to be something far more worse than the storm, and thats what killed me the most.

Yet, my death is a differnet kind of death. I'm really not actually dead.
I don't think it would be too late.
Maybe one day, I can be a sun again. That would be wonderful.
But as of the moment, I am not a sun or a storm. I am a black sun.

I really enjoyed reading this poem. It has an amazing message. The biggest thing you could do to improve it would be to try to make it sound less like a short story. I think that some really great words would give it a poetry-like feel. Here are some suggestions:

Gray.

That's how she saw the world. Everyday was a storm for her. (This was a very good stanza)
Even when she pulled her jacket tighter she still felt cold.
Everyday this storm compiled on her even more and she did nothing wrong.
Nothing at all but the storm was still there, at school, in her house, and inside her mind.
The storm was her master, she was the little lost dog.

Then, one day, a (because you are one of many) sun came.
Out of nowhere, brightness peered out and the storm left.
She then saw no longer a colorless world, but a world with color.
A world with happiness, a world with rainbows falling on her like raindrops, a world with...
Sun.

And that sun was me.
I was her sun, and she was one of my rays smiling with me.
Everyday was no longer a challenge, but a simple pleasure.
I didn't really think that what I did was a major thing (This is an awkwardly worded part.), but words can't describe what it meant for her.
For the first time, she felt-

Warmth.
She felt this tingling sensation of love, joy, and laughter.
I had taught her how to smile again.
I myself felt amazing for being her sun and (I think you should just take this whole part out) I knew I'd be her sun forever.

At least I thought I'd be...

Then, there was the storm.
The storm was extremely- lustful.
I hate to admit it, but sometimes I had this deep desire to be a part of the storm.
The storm was just, mesmerizing to my eyes.
I knew that the storm was bad (needs a stronger word), but my temptation just ate me away bit by bit.
I became a part of the storm. And not just for a day or two.
Years. For years I was no longer a sun but a storm.

After many many years I found myself walking one day, just walking.
Not realizing my life was about to change within the next few minutes.
I saw something flickering in an old worn down building.
Thinking it might be something amusing I went in the building toward the flickering light.
The flickering light was growing brighter and brighter until I finally saw the horror that awaited me.
In a cold pitch dark room there was a tiny little flame from a matchstick
And I could the ghostly outline of a person in the room.

Out of nowhere the fireplace turned on, And there she was.
The girl whom I had brought so much joy, was know all sucked away into a black hole.
So forlorn, so much misery in her whole body that it brought me weak to my knees
In her hand, was a single matchstick inches away from her throat.
"No," I pleaded. "Don't." My tone cracked, my mind wasn't thinking right. (I don't think you need this.) "Please, I'm sorry."
I knew sorry couldn't help anything. All these years, I roamed free and she was in a prison cell.

She did not say anything at all. With each moment passing by, the matchstick came closer and closer to her throat until-
The next movement of her arm would be the last movement of her life.
"I promise you, I will never leave you again, just please don't do this."
She looked me in the eye. My eyes turned bloodshot. Such a fierce and upsetting look.
She only said a few words but those few word changed my life forever,

"The only thing worse than a storm is a sun that goes dark, that turns its shadow on you,
A black sun. And that is what you are."
With that the match touched her neck, and she was gone.
The little flame took over her body and turned her into ashes.
"NO!!!!" I screamed so mournfully against the raging fire "NO!!!!"
No matter how hard I screamed no one could hear it.

I held her ashes as the seeped through my hand
Black. They were.
Black. A black sun. And after these many years that's what I was.
I had turned into an evil demon of a monster.
I was living in some kind of fantasy, a illusion. And I believe I had just woken up.
It wasn't her that just died but the sun in me did too.
I grew out to be something far more worse than the storm, and that's what killed me the most.

Yet, my death is a different kind of death. I'm really not actually dead.
I don't think it is too late.
Maybe one day, I can be a sun again. That would be wonderful. (This is a really weak sentence, especially for the second last sentence.)
But as of the moment, I am not a sun or a storm. I am a black sun.

I feel that this has a ton of possibility. I hope your friend and you can reunite. Never stop writing!

I don't have much of a review for you as I really can't find much wrong with this at all - but I really wanted to tell you how much I like it! As a poem, it flows well and makes your point really clear, and the topic is unique and the poem is just very quirky and individual.

I love the dramatic yet completely true way you've described everything in this poem. Keep writing - I'd love to read more.