Young Writers Society

I work all day
stay up all night
most people I do despise
they take time
without giving you a prize
Id rather spend all day
playing video games in a hoodie
then be in the presences of someone who hurts me.
Im scared of people and what they do
so I turn to 3D characters who are much more to you.
People, crowds and all things loud
scare away most things proud.
Living in a small place is where I belong
time to hide away from the crowd.

-Hi! people scare me. Thanks I hope it was bad but good-

I feel the same
But I don't dress the same
I was soft
now i'm edgy
I use to listen to pop
But, my new playlist is all about metal
I feel the same

poems, like life problems, are only as dramatic as you make them sound

I seem to make
sentences even less rhythm-
-ic than supposed to be,
even though there's rhythm-
-ness in prose as it is,
like seeming to make
sentences even less figurative
than they already were,
I'm melodramatising
this run-on sentence.

Haiku on peanuts
Come get a crack out of this
It will drive you nuts

Writing poetry
Kind of like
This where
You can't
Get a
Complete thought
Out and
The line breaks
Aren't thought out
And serve
Nothing
To emphasize words
Or tell
A story
Or convey meaning
And the
Flow doesn't
Exist
And I have a
Hard time
Reading

a/n: it is a stylistic choice though and works in some poems, so take with a grain of salt!

The mirror just wants to
destroy itself,
on the shelf,
no more health.

A thousand scattering shards
like ice cream,
cold and,
lacking consistency
(badly-made ice cream).

It's too many pictures,
too many
things to be
for any thing
to hang onto.

We all need something to hang onto.

This poem won’t be
A bad poem
Because they only suck
When I try
Just kidding

candles.
i don't remember
what I was going to say
but candles seem, how should i say,
~poetic~
like, the little bebe flamies?
try desperately to hold hands with the air
but always the air seeps through their fingers
just like me
oops
i made a sad relatable metaphor
let's call it a day

Nah, i can do better.

My heart is like my sister's constipation
Red, squishy and disgusting.
I offer it flinchingly.
My love is like a beautiful rainbow
Except it runs straight, parallel to the ground,
So it never reaches a pot of gold.
You can blame planking.

there are no barns to hold down catfish
so they float around dizzy in the grass - and we try
to fence them in, futile tasks we keep like tacking
old leaves unto trees, backwards aging, and
counting birthdays in reverse, we can't hold everything
in nor can we quite forget, so the catfish roam
wild, until we are forced back into the water;
to grow gills, then fins, then lose our feet
and you can teach a person to run, but you never
can unteach them, it's something about chasing
and leaving, that once a door is open, it's unhinged
and too much sunlight piercing into darkened rooms
can't be avoided, like deep sea fishing with only lantern light,
so you avert your eyes just enough to see they're still
out there, the catfish, and they're multiplying.

inspired by @ChesTacos comment about my unbirthday post

i Forget how 2 learn each morning
when All i have are lists of arbitrary rules
and Definitions i mus explen to my parents
when We three are ded and in tiny urns
we Will never be unprobl3matic
we Will n3v3r b enuf

me
we

I'm a taco
I have cheese
And veggies

i
we me
you:
one or
two or more
people,
and we become
words

Topsy turvy,
the world is curvy.
Spinning round and round,
and always without sound.