Young Writers Society

overthinking the words everything and nothing and how overthinking is my everything and nothing
I am everything
and nothing
and I am your everything
and I mean nothing
because I gave you everything
and got nothing back
because even though you will always be everything
i will always be equivalent to nothing more
than everything that I never was
and nothing can change the way you see me.

overthinking what I want to say to the little boy who lives on the moon.
I am anonymous.
What a shame you will
Never hear my tears.
You are every star I wished upon,
And these are the words I screamed:

Moonshine, Moon of light,
The darkest rays, guide my fight.
I pray you may, I hope you might,
See the tears, I cry tonight.

Fallen boy, you once held on tight,
You sobbed in my arms, knuckles white.
You wished and prayed, that ungodly fortnight,
Make it one more day, sleep through this night.

My dearest child, you were always a delight,
Now gone astray, did I choose the right?
I dream of you, someday taking off in flight,
But dreams died with the stars, I die tonight.

overthinking mermaids and glow-in-the-dark stars and how i have lost my magic powers.
as a kid i wished upon
the glow in the dark stars on my ceiling.
how i wish
stars could be that simple
once again.

i used to collect shells at the beach.
i was a mermaid who got trapped on the shore
and the only way for me to get home
was to sing enchanting songs
of hope and healing and magic.
i cant remember those songs anymore,
and maybe my magic has faded,
but ive still got the scars on my hands
to prove that
i used to be a mermaid.

and someday when im a mother,
ill see my children play,
and maybe then,
ill catch a glimse of the magic
of what it is like
to be a glow-in-the-dark star-wisher
and a mermaid, one last time.

words will always bleed.
harder, faster, deeper, whole.
my words never smile.

once upon a time,
Johnny became and adult
and started to hate others for sinning
even though he is also a sinner.

When life gives you lemonade,
(but you dont like lemonade
And you miss those lemons because they hurt
But at least they made you feel alive)

There are a few ways you can proceed:

1-Leave your glass out in the rain and let the skys tears dilute your glass until it is nothing more than nothing that you ever wanted, but at least it is dull enough that you can drink it and only taste the absence of everything you once had.

2-You can drink it. And maybe others will judge you for drinking it, but screw them.

3-You can pretend to drink it but actually dump it down the drain (and feel like a liar, living in every lie you have buried yourself in, like the dirt on your own casket.)

When life gives you lemonade,
(but all you want are lemons)
Maybe you can make something beautiful.
We are taught to believe that lemonade is everything
That we will ever need,
But maybe lemons are enough.

Go buy some lemons.
You dont need lemonade
To live.

I already love her.

“Maybe someday you'll have a daughter
Just like you. And you will finally understand what it is like.”

Maybe i will.
And maybe
If i am lucky enough for her to be like me,
I will be able to smile at the dimples in her cheeks,
Map out constellations of her freckles,
Laugh at her laugh,
And love the ways her eyes curve when she grins.

And maybe someday when i have a daughter,
I will learn to love someone who is imperfect.
Because i will know that the only beauty that matters,
Is the beauty that i birthed in her heart and
Fostered with my gentleness.

Maybe someday i'll understand
How to choose compassion over hurt.
Love will be my alcohol.
Suffering will be the drug that holds our family together,
Instead of breaking it apart.

You're right mom,
Maybe someday i'll know what its like
To love a daughter just like me.
Who is perfect and imperfect
In every smile and every tear.

I already love her,
Always and forever.

Promises with my past self:

I am changing into
The person i promised i would never become.
Younger me would cower,
But present me has changed my name
To freedom.
Little me would cry,
But the girl i am today is learning to live with
Uncertainty and fearlessness.
The girl i was in 2010
Would not believe the change that has taken place
In my heart,
But she would also admire
Resilience
And learn to see the beauty in my
Perfect imperfections, which i have embraced.

Forgotten and broken.
Are forgotten promises
Broken promises?
Or are they just whispers
Lost in the wind,
Trees fallen in a forest,
And flames that burn, out of sight?
You have whispered to me
Every word i have forgotten.
You have fallen so many times,
But i never saw you
(so did it even happen?).
And you have been burning for my entire life.
So maybe thats why i never recognized the flames.

Unrecognisable fragments
I survived,
But the girl I used to be is dead.
I look around my surroundings,
And then I look within myself.
All I see is unrecognizable fragments,
Of a little girl who wanted to be loved.
Is this living?
Is this really what it feels like
To be a survivor, to live, to love?
I am applauded for surviving,
But I feel like I am more broken
Then who I used to be.

Walking on eggshells,
I learned to tiptoe down the stairs.
Any movement, any cough, any flinch,
Would set off an alarm
That demanded control of everything
That never needed to be controlled.
I learned to cry on eggshells.
And took my first steps
On pointy, poignant fragments
Of broken pieces, which were once whole.
But all i have ever known is broken
And unfixable.
Mended, but fragile.
Glued together, but never real.

I dont want my scars anymore.
Sure, i survived, but i sure as hell dont feel any stronger.
I wear permanent reminders of
Imperfect healing.
A journey that never finishes,
Because I am always brought back
To who i used to be
And they way i dressed myself.
My body has healed as much as it can,
But my mind is far from fixed.
I bleed everyday.
Every moment.
Every second.

Shadows
I didnt even realize how tall id grown,
Because i was so focused on the disproportions
Of my shadow.
I never recognized her.
It wasnt until i looked in front of me
That i saw how long my hair was.
And how much i looked like my mother.
How much i had grown into the body
And the mind
And the heart i had.

Where I hide.
You would hide
In your bedroom, with the door locked.
I hide,
In a poem.

Only words
I write, assuming that no one will ever read
A single word.
I dream, living in a way that nothing i hope for
Will come to pass.
And i cry, without letting myself be defeated,
Because tears are only tears.
Just like how waterfalls are only waterfalls,
And every word you whispered in my ear,
Were only words.