Young Writers Society

Her mind burns with a terrible, restless desire
At night, when all is quiet
apart from my mind.
When the light is dwindling and the
Shadows are longer than this street
I tried counting sheep, but they wouldn’t be confined.
Her eyes gaze out through the frosty windowpanes,
To where the sky is marred with sleet.

Her heart judders inside of her chest,
Her hand searching for the paper, the pen
black ink, essence of mind, I need to write, just write.
The ink spills out onto her fingers,
And the words form on the page
words so free, so right.
Her breaths are coming faster, along with her restless thoughts
She wants to run, just run, to escape her stifling cage.

Trainers slipped hastily onto bare feet,
Key dropped, picked up, pushed into the lock,
I need to run, I need to feel, I need to feel.
The soles hitting the cold, dark ground,
Her soul barely contained
oh, the night, so quiet, so unknown and unreal.
She stops and gazes at the water, beneath a crumbling bridge
And she lets the thoughts return, until her mind is mangled, maimed.

The water is black; it is barely stirring, dead
The worn wood is rough and chipped beneath her frozen hands
why are we here? Why are we here?
The memory of a subdued mind, intruding
And the world is suddenly distant, pale
no - it will be dark; it will be misty and unclear.
She stills there, by the bridge, slides down onto its wooden beams
It is battered, it is broken, but her heart is also frail.

It slows down to a heavy, distant thump.
And she feels the memory of a sun, a too-bright morning sun,
I need … I need to feel.
And the guilt is a wooden sea in which
Her mind will chip and splinter
oh, just to feel.
She stands above the icy water and she longs to go to sleep,
Because she feels it near her mind, that cold, unclear winter.

Hey, nice job. I liked it because it was sort of mysterious, with the way it was written. I also liked the way you wrote out what she was thinking, once or twice in each stanza.

"It slows down to a heavy, distant thump.
And she feels the memory of a sun, a too-bright morning sun,
I need … I need to feel.
And the guilt is a wooden sea in which
Her mind will chip and splinter
oh, just to feel.
She stands above the icy water and she longs to go to sleep,
Because she feels it near her mind, that cold, unclear winter.
MorningMist
No more than an idea; an illusion, wrapped in morning mist."

I liked that stanza, I think it wrapped up the poem good. The last line of that stanza links the title to the story, if I can call it that.

I also like this stanza:

"Her heart judders inside of her chest,
Her hand searching for the paper, the pen
black ink, essence of mind, I need to write, just write.
The ink spills out onto her fingers,
And the words form on the page
words so free, so right.
Her breaths are coming faster, along with her restless thoughts
She wants to run, just run, to escape her stifling cage."

Mainly because where she says, "words so free, so right" relates to how all YWSers think, lol. Anyways, nice job, and keep it up.

Chilling. It sends chills down my spine. I like how there are parts parts in italics to symbolize her thoughts. While it is true that some parts are unclear and you have to dig for the meaning, and I think there may be a back story, this piece is well written and certainly has a mysterious quality to it that I find enticing.