Young Writers Society

You'll Never Know My Name
Date Written: 4/27

No one knows my name.
I can tell you what I think and what I feel
but how will you ever know if it’s true?

For all you know I’m an ai bot.
Nameless and emotionless,
with nothing but a broken record
of phrases and words
used by other real people,
with real feelings,
with real names.

I chose my username.
(Or did I?
Maybe I’m the first true artificial intelligence
with a name chosen by its creator.)
And I can tell you what it means
(except I won’t.)
And I can tell you my real name
(unless I’m not real.)

Would it even matter?
To you, I’m words behind a screen.
Patterns of shapes that come together to
form something you think you understand.
But I’ve never stood before you.
You’ve never seen me and you likely
never will.

And I’ve never seen you.
I don’t know who’s reading this
or how you’re reading this.
It could be myself sitting in bed
rereading it all again to make sure it makes sense.
It could be a teen trying to make their way
to their next class while in the halls,
or an adult taking a break from work at their desk.
Maybe you unlocked your phone and found this
in solitude
after crying.
Or you’re scrolling through the words faster
then you can actually read
because you promised you would.

But as we go through our days,
you’ll never know my name.
And I’ll never know yours.


Another one partially inspired by mint

Father Time
Dates Written: 4/16 & 4/28

Father Time,
You didn't give me time
to write this.
I stole this time
I should've used for something else.

I want to hate you
but I know it's my fault I wasted you.
Every second you gave me
was a privilege
not a promise.

I promise so many things.
And I tell people the reason I broke them
is because you're not there,
Father Time.

[...Promises
I(m) broke(n)
the(y)m(e)...]

I say I’ll do it
another time.
[Spoiler]
I never do.

Father Time,
we’ve known each other for 807 weeks
and 1 day.
How many more weeks will I waste?
How many more weeks before I crumble under my own guilt?
How many more weeks before you can forgive me?

How many more weeks before I can forgive myself?

1 day,
Father Time,
One day.
But not all days.

Blink
Dates Written: 4/20 & 4/28

Not everything blinks.
A teenager addicted to their screen.
An adult reading their book.
A child looking up at the sky.

If you could see the world sped up, you might notice, too,
how the sky seems to blink.
How the world cycles between day and night
and the sun peers down at the world like a pupil surrounded by blue iris.
Inverse the colors of the moon and sky, too, and see another eye.

Not everything blinks.
A forgotten doll left in a box, too deep for dust to reach and pile on her.
(At least if there was dust she could guess how long it'd been.)
A tree standing tall in the sky. The aspens might seem like they're looking at you, but they could care less for the world.
(We're the ones making the problems anyway)

But for those of us that do blink
It seems like everything can disappear in an instant
(But doesn’t that mean
everything can appear in a single instant too?)