Young Writers Society

Whooo~ NaPo Year 1 (for me)
Now let's see if I can actually keep this up having no particular theme.

Contents ~
1.4 - 1. Listen and Don't Trust Your Eyes
2.4 - 2. Virus
3.4 - 3. Swimming, Searching, Standing
4.4 - 4. heartbreak does not break hearts
5.4 - 5. Imperfect Perfections
6.4 - 6. Unnamed
7.4 - 7. The Violin
8.4 - 8. the destroyer
9.4 - 9. My Heart's Guardian
- 10. the world is a liar
- 11. how many times?
10.4 - 12. Friendship
11.4 - 13. A Cycle of Life
12.4 - 14. Scars Untold
13.4 - 15. Simplicity
14.4 - 16. Blooming Flowers
15.4 - 17. What did I just write?
16.4 - 18. love is worse than hate
17.4 - 19. My Heart
18.4 - 20. Music
19.4 - 21. Straight to Voicemail
20.4 - 22. Two Faced
21.4 - 23. Crumbling
22.4 - 24. The Glass Floor
23.4 - 25. Stupid Things
24.4 - 26. Unnamed
25.4 - 27. Unnamed
26.4 - 28. how does one judge without a heart?
27.4 - 29. Shadow People
28.4 - 30. Sad/Pathetic Love Story

Day One -
1. Listen and Don't Trust Your Eyes

Every morning just before the sun
peaks in the sky's cradle, I listen
to the fading song of shadows.
Echoes and screams, drowning
in misery beneath the surface, are
never heard.

I warned you of how they sway
to beating rhythms you, oh, so
desperately try to hide. But the matter
is not how you feel in your mind.

Strike the match, I say every day before
your visit. Let the memories burn, unless
they catch you. The shadows are always hungry
for yet another soul to feast.

Every twilight just before the moon
glints from its shining stars, I only
watch for a lost calling.
Misery only drowns out the
true messages that don't trust the heart
of the giver.

Day Two -
2. Virus

A certain skill with a certain
mind playing tricks on me can create
disaster far worse than thought possible.
I don't believe it

really happened to be a crack in
the perfect system. Perhaps
deeper than ever imaginable. The hole is a
void within the seems of a dress

sewn in threads of tears that
stream down my face. We both know
you caused all of this, but my
ignorance blocked out the signs before

it was too late to do anything.
In anger, of rage - hate - mischief, none of it
but all of it one fury of disappointment.
I don't understand anymore.

Through blurred vision I
write now my petty problems,
knowing that it's my fault for
your failure.

You have such a strong voice, Wolf! And the emotions are palpable—lovely stuff. You don't beat about the bush with what you want to say either, and I like that. ^^

Keep going, keep going!

Day Three -
3. Swimming, Searching, Standing

Mornings and evenings, with suns and moons -
and all kinds of opposites in one, I do believe
there is some kind of pattern to be found amid
the chaos. To etch the findings in stone,
cold minds, devoid of anything but hope.
A word which whispers soft praise in ears blocked
of any thoughts from the soul.

(stored away under lock and
key to the madness. search far,
weary traveler. you are not your own.)

In oceans of churning, raging
waves that beat down the greatest barriers, sometimes
I too find feeling too much to bear. As twisted
knots riddle the chains that guard me, weight on my shoulders
threaten to squash me in numbness. From light
to dark places inside me, I see chaos
swimming around my vision as I try not to drown.

(whiteness, darkness, all the shades
in between the blurs. sit together
with all the separate parts: mind, body, and soul.
search on, maestro. Express yourself more.)

Bile and tears are one in the same
poison, partnered with pain.

But I refuse to stop swimming in my own prison
crafted by yours truly.
(blood, sweat and tears poured into your soul, traveler)

I shall not stop listening and waiting
and searching for more reasons to be
(a lovely song, maestro. heard from the mind).

For I am human.

I feel pain, misery, regret -
- remorse, guilt, disaster in every form of chaos
but I still stand.
I still feel, taking the blow
for the joyous things opposite. After the sun
sets and the moon feels dark and dreary,
I wait. The sun returns, just like emotions
dark enough to smother a flame, they pass.
And I'm left standing.

Day Four -
4. heartbreak does not break hearts

two nights to climb
out a valley too deep.
two nights to slide
down a mountain too steep.

merry days, happy ways -
we split to keep ourselves still sane.
but ache and break come back once more
so who will i keep my heart for?

the strings, they pluck, just like a petal
not yet, so strong, like yours of metal
and steely smiles so send to say,
"don't keep the vow, we part today."

i think again with what you said
the rhythm beats against my head
(he loves me so, he loves me not
i wish it was just me he sought.)

but no. i'll break away from chains
that hold me back and cause me pain.
now i see you were just the strip
that held me down and so i rip
away from all the faults of war
my heart thinks that's worth fighting for.

today, i scaled the mountain top
once i pulled off the ropes that rot.
the valley has the brightest sky
after i learned i could fly.

Day Five -
5. Imperfect Perfections

Behind the glass, fingers are tap, tap, tapping
away in rhythms as steady as horse hooves. I only watch
in awe at the perfected sound that echoes
around the room. I smile then and tap my foot
along with the rhythm beating through the sqeaks in the door hidge
(it was yet to be fixed, but imperfections aren't all bad.)

The wind whistles a tune to be played
with the band forming around my room, as the fingers
tap out a rhythm and my heart beats
along to the creaks as the walls ache in their old age.
(their prime was years ago, so they're far from perfect.)
I twirl to the musical harmony,
created by things so imperfect. I feel daring.

Shed, shredded, simple tears in paper
origami lay scattered among the chaos as I dance
along to the tapping and squealing and creaking and
whistles. Though I am trapped in a
prison of perfect corners and edges, nothing out of place
but nothing can be found. This prison I've lost myself in
(a struggle to release the imperfect monster.)

There are no doors, no chairs or pillows to make
myself feel welcomed. White glass from the outside looking
in, I'm stuck to rot in my own imperfect
perfectionism - that will be the death of me.
And while I dance now, to the scratching at the glass
cage, it will always hold me. I am always alone.

Day Six -
6.

Underneath a setting sun, where stars come out to shine,
a rhythmic sort of sounding pounding comes across my ears
to which I know the sound is just another stress of mine
because, another sense of sadness brings my eyes to tears.

A rhythmic soric sort of sounding pounding comes across my ears
as another gentle breeze appears to stir the leaves around
because, another sense of sadness brings my eyes to tears
when the trees all sway along, there is no uttered sound.

As another gentle breeze appears to stir the leaves around
flowers flourish in falling rain, drowned out by the light
when the trees all sway along, there is no uttered sound.
To think since just the sun is out that all would become bright.

Flowers flourish in falling rain, drowned out by the light
clouds that only dare to drift, bordering the sky,
to think since just the sun is out that all would become bright.
but filled with rain to ruin, so they only drift on by.

Clouds that only dare to drift, bordering the sky.
It creaks and cracks and spills its secrets out into the day
but filled with rain to ruin, so they only drift on by.
I know the travelers about and out will take another way.

It creaks and cracks and spills its secrets out into the day
to which I know the sound is just another stress of mine.
I know the travelers about and out will take another way
underneath a setting sun, where stars come out to shine.

Day Seven -
7. The Violin

A grace note slips into the air, under pressure
from the bow. Its sound hugs the melody, cradling
it along with the song. A sound there for a moment
longer, then slipping away as it's drowned out.

In the musician's hands, the instrument is caressed
with movements of his body to the song,
some jerking across the strings
and others like whispers that dance around him.

Stroke after stroke, it squeaks out the sounded
trills, with fingers tapping the string board, or
glissandos, crescendos, diminuendos filling the melody
with excitement, passion even.

Alone, the beats, strikes, pushes against
the bow's hairs would stick out in the chamber,
but together. Oh, together, this band of strings
cry out to their audience, listen to my grace.

listen to my glory,
my song and heart poured out
into this melody. Under
this blanket of sound.

Day Eight -
8. the destroyer

i wanted to count all the water
droplets that wash up on the shore. forgotten
puddles, splished and splashed in, nothing
more than victims to the sun.

i wanted to arrange all the autumn
leaves from largest to most shriveled. ghostly
skeletons of leaves litter the ground along the river,
the golden flesh clinging to its lost life.

i wanted to save the tree
bark; it's skin that peels off a burn. no doubt painful
as children strip the paper from its home.
no matter if it wants to stay - it has no say.

no matter what i want to do. it's not up to me
to stop their suffering or
give new lives and homes to those lost
in pits of troubled times.

i wanted to help.
nature wouldn't let me because
i only destroy more.

Day Nine -
9. My Heart's Guardian

I have a guardian
angel, who stands by me.
Comforting me through sleepless night
horrors and guarding my resting place.

By day, he is a lifeless plushie
bear, hardly scaring off dust
bunnies. Nightfall wakes the sleeping
beast inside him. He will protect me.

Glorious battles and wild skirmishes
set aside. He is my faithful knight, despite
how his armor rots away. He is never weakened,
for my own love is all he desires.

Fourteen years, he has guarded:
my dream from evil monsters and sickly visions,
my soul from dark thoughts set out to crumble
my heart, for I gave it to him

Fourteen years ago, I decided
I have yet to find a new champion -

but I don't mind giving 'Beary' a few more years ^^

XD I remember this!

10. the world is a liar

The universe has a vicious cycle which
throw the innocent into loops of everlasting hell. First,
lure out the weak ones - those with hope - with prospects of
joyous days that will brighten the spirit. All done before
their bodies are broken by the worldly fist

smashing down on them, those left
alive crawl back to the safety of those dank hollows,
eating at their souls the longer they stay. But those smart
beings, who wallow in their misery, watch with disgust at
their pathetic attempts to salvage themselves.

They were smart to cling onto the last threads of
despair, guards them from the terrors of happiness. But
the universe is persistent. Taking its next vitims with those
whose faith is not so deeply rooted, it coaxes with sweet words,
soft winds, and severed ties to a world of broken

dreams, thus shattered along with their spirit. In a tremendous
quake, the earth swallows them hole. They return lifeless and
depressed. Sinking deeper into the hole, along with the others. Even
the crippled are aware of the devil behind the temptation
that brings happiness to the people. It's all a fraud.

Again and again, the hopeful beg and plead and crawl
out into the open to be embraced by an unloving, mischievous demon
world, slaving for the universe. We are meant to suffer after all,
why else would people dare live so long?

11. how many times?

how many times have i
cleaned up the shattered
dreams, thrown onto this floor?
[More times than worth keeping track,
but you recall, there is a tidy broom
tucked under your pillow, for the
occasion. It's never mattered before.]

how many times will i have to
wallow in myself, my own pity?
[Ah, don't be like that! In the past
you've picked yourself up and listened
to reason. It's never led your astray before.]

how many times have i
shut myself up
in my silenced room, taking
away contact from everyone else?
[You have to tell her.
It's not healthy to contain
your emotions, as if bearing
the entirety of the ocean.]

how many times will i
sit, counting all the
seconds i don't have drift by?
or staring at a blinking cursor on
a frozen screen, knowing perfectly well
i can pull out a page and write?
or stressing over the little things
that "don't really matter"?

[I told you to pull yourself out
of the gutter and focus on the task at hand.
Sewing stuffing for a leather shirt
gets you nowhere. But you insist
to be in the clouds and letting the wind
take you far away, when you're scared
of the unknown. Dust off the pieces
of dreams and glue them back together.]

how many times will i
sit and want to be young
and stupid again?
[It's not stupidity, but
ignorance. They are different] -
but interchangeable
[ - words. do not confuse the two].

I want to hate you,
[but I love you.]

and we're tearing ourselves apart.

Day Ten -
12. Friendship

You used to be so close to me, as if
I could reach out and grab the dream, that dangles
in front of my eyes. Now you've disappeared. Like a
fading echo whisked away as a song on
the breeze. Out of sight, out of
existence. I don't mind. You take your
path, and I'll take mine.

You once laid in the palm of my hand,
like a stone I could wrap my fingers around, actually
there. I see you disintegrating as you
turn to dust in my fingers. Before, you were never mine
to keep, just hold like a fantasy, but eventually slipping
the real grasp. I let you go. You should find
your home, and I'll find mine.

Your voice could once chill my bone
marrow until I died. Blood running cold through thin
veins. You killed me with words that I can no longer hear
within my head. But that's okay. My delicate
ears couldn't take the hatred you hinted at
anyway, despite the signs my heart hid.
So I stopped listening, to let you leave
me. You have a love and I'll match mine.

I could've closed my fingers to hide
the obvious cracks. Squeezing so tight, my knuckles
turn white, only for the wounds to reopen and the sand
fall through. It's not worth the energy
to chase after you, so you'll stay in my sight or
yell at you, until my voice is raw, so your venomous voice
will stay in my head.

I've moved on from you.
Friends versus crushes:
friends crush crushes, making
love versus hate:
love comes before hate, breaking
hearts versus trust:
trust your heart and you'll find
nothing.
But trust in others.