Young Writers Society

rida wrote:

Little Drops Of Water

Dreams are like those
Drops of water
Barely hanging on your fingertips
Reflecting you
As if they were round mirrors

And then,
Dancing on your fingertips slightly

(Like the wind chimes fluttering by the touch of curious wind)

They shimmer for a moment

(fooling you they could wriggle into reality)

And slip down
Dissecting into
A million tears

(Like your heart when you realise they were just fairytales)

They fall lightly
Into the white-tiled basin
Slowly swallowed by
The drain

(Like hope as it is devoured by reality)

They travel down
The mouldy pipe
Little bits of green algae
Sticking here and there

(Those little bits of hope born by people who dared hope again)

They crouch through the dark alleyways
Of the pipe
Anticipating the end

(Like you did when you picked up the needle to sew them into reality)

And they meet the end
Almost abruptly

(Like your heart had done when the world rejected your dreams)

They fall down lightly
With a tiny plop
Into the cemetery

(Where hundred other dreams were buried)

They sink deeper
Floating lightly
At the bottom

(Like you wanted to when you were abandoned by others for voicing your thoughts)

And they glimpse at the
Little rays of green light
[filtered green from the algae-infected waters of million other dreams]

They dissolve in the water
Miscible in hopelessness
They shiver
And smile


Penned down slowly into
Your own little book of history







Dreams are like those
Drops of water
That evaporate from
the cemetery
Weaving themselves into
a fluffy cloud
Of endless possibilities
And
when the time comes right


They fall down lightly



Right into the lap of




Reality

@hannah0528 @Yoshikrab @TheScribe @Charm @Magebird @rida @starlitmind @chikara @Spearmint @alliyah @veeren @Rydia @charlie4152 @MapleWay @ChrisCalaid @ForeverYoung299 @Buranko @fortis

i have been questioning
how many days we've spent alone,
spread apart across these
two conflicting points:
the highest peak of your ceiling
and the lowest void under your bed.
i have been here before, sprawled out
on your floor, pointing fingers at
your shadows on the wall.

i am too familiar with the feeling
of your jagged fingernails
continually digging into my skin,
steadily reversing and accelerating
on the same interwoven surface.
my skin isn't going anywhere,
but it's constantly changing.
sometimes it's defaced with
words of endearment
and sometimes it's silence.

facing my monster

there’s a monster under my bed.
they tell me not to stare into its eyes
or else i’ll only see red.

i swaddle my body in blankets
to stop its sinewy limbs from
wrapping into my heart.

now it’s pressing on my shoulder
and whispering words that resonate
with the blood rushing in my heart.

i hold my breath so the darkness
sweeps me away before
the blankets loosen.

but then my skin feels like it’s on fire
and its touch is the only thing
that can cool my blood.

claws dig through thick skin
and tear past the bones
that guard it like armor.

leaning against the monster,
i gently close my eyes
as my world is finally
painted scarlet.

ahhh I really wanted to write a new poem for this round since I don't like any of the other ones I have written this month, but I ran out of time oops ;-;

SO I used a number generator to see which poem I should pick haha, so I thought that was kind of fun xD

but oof I am super sorry for this :((((

@charlie4152 @alliyah @Charm

Spread Thin

tell my why
my brain feels like an empty jam jar
that I keep having to scrap the edges of,
glass screeching against the knife.
each time I hope to get enough
and each time I take a bite,
I’m disappointed.

I want to give you what you’re craving,
that taste you’ll come back for.
I want to be that second, third, fourth bite,
the final piece you relish.

I wish I could give you words
to roll off your tongue,
dripping sweet like honey.

but instead, all I can do
is hope there is enough
to spread thin.

@charlie4152 @starlitmind @Magebird @chikara
@alliyah @Charm