Category Archives: YoungWritersProject

3 am

Isn’t it fucked up,

How I love you the most,

When she loves you the least,

At 3am,

When the stars are our flashlights,

You’re drunk,

raw with emotions,

and Beautiful,

the silver light of the moon

Illuminating your skin

through the car window.


by ForgetMeNotMyWords


Into the Sunrise

If you ask anyone around me

I am that girl,

The goody-two-shoes

Perfect down to every curl.

I’ve never broken curfew

Never done anything I should not,

I act how I’m supposed to

I even monitor my thought.

I’ve been called a teacher’s pet

And I guess I sort of am,

I answer every question

And ace every single exam.

However every so often

I get tired of the expectation,

The constant knowing looks

The adult’s admiration.

It is times like this

When the only thing to do,

Is to let it all go

And run in the dew.

To run like wind

And let the stress fly away,

To feel the burden lighten

And to keep the pressure at bay.

Heading into the sunrise

Into the early morning mist,

Is the best feeling ever

You must try it, I insist.

by lindsey.s

One Night

Just for one night, we’ll pretend it’s love.

You smell sweet and safe

Like kush,


And herbal tea.

And tonight,

I feel as empty as the sea, so

Fill me with words that

Won’t mean much in the morning

But tonight

Will allow me

To dream.

Just for one night, we’ll pretend it’s love.

by imperfect


A dusty unfinished novella, sitting unloved on my desktop,

Awaits the pause of the cursor, the little feedback high

It gets from a click to open.

Waiting patiently for the cursor to reopen it,

As its ideas gather dust in my mind.

Sometimes, the cursor might hover over it for a moment,

And it will feel loved,

And hopeful for its life to be continued, and fleshed-out.

But its hopes are dashed against the rocky cliff of time,

As memories of plot and characters fade until,

One day, it gets selected again.


by zeusfireair

As If She Cared

by juliar

I felt her eyes brush mine

As if she was judging me from behind

Looking at my hair

Not missing any detail,  as if she cared

From my morphed together toes

up to my ski slope nose

I could feel her stare

The sizing up glare

It’s almost as if… she honestly cared.

I want to tell her that you grow out of feeling like that…

…But I don’t want to lie.


by ForgetMeNotMyWords

The invisible hands of the old man clock ticked away,

As she twisted a thick gold band around white knobby fingers,

Her radioactive green eyes trying to pry into the abyss,

Of my mind,

She purses her lips,


Trying to interpret the vacancy of my face,

Still and patient,

I wait for her calculated observation,

Thick white paper crinkles beneath her yellow stained finger nails,

The lamp set off an eerie glow in the room,

Her ratty brown hair hung loosely above her shoulders,

My legs impatiently twitch beneath me,

“You’re depressed…You are too stressed out”

She finally says in an unexpectedly calm voice,

I can’t hear her,

For dissociation has already taken me far away,

She waits for my response,

An hour almost gone,

My vision finally starts to return,

My brains way of saying “fuck you” to her,

The invisible hands strike 2:45,

I stand to leave,

Hands wrist deep in my pockets,

The paper of her skin tightens across her face,

An hour wasted,

I shuffle towards the door,

Wondering once again why I’m even here,

As I turn the silver lock to make my leave.

Trying Too Hard

The bouquet of carnations was a little too red,

straining towards the light, trying a little too hard to be roses;

they smelled as sweet, but the lie was there.

I remember you gave me roses once.

I can’t remember why, but the intention was there,

I’m sure.

But I never liked those flowers:

They lived a little too long,

smelled a little too much like a late proclamation,

looked a little too beautiful after a week of neglect.

But the chocolates you gave me were lovely.

I didn’t eat them.

Perhaps I should have,

but I hate to get my blood sugar up.

I don’t want to get carried away as a result,

lest you think I’m trying too hard.

by DeathNoteMathChick

Ana Speaks Beautifully

her skin is like scar tissue

draped over bones.

her eyes are like

tablets of klonopin.

in the shower

her hair that once

fell past her back

falls in to her hands.


she tries to put it back, but

in this world

there are some things

that can’t be undone.

by imperfect

Tagged , ,

Eric and Ash

Here’s one selection from a series of narrative poems written by a new member of our writing community. She’s in 8th grade.

Night Terrors

by Kyrridwen

The dark and the cold
wrapped around her waist,
chilling her to the very core.
She whispered louder,
bare feet sliding
the hardwood floor.
“Eric, please wake up!”
She called, voice louder still
Trying to let him hear,
Over the creaking
Of the mill.
“Eric, don’t leave me here!”
She screamed
Calling out in fear.
She really shouldn’t
Have come here.
Came a creaking wall
Looking like
It would fall.
“Ash, please wake up”
Called the
support beams
Looking about to
bust their seams.
“Ash, baby, come back to me”
Cried an
Old, fallen tree.
“Eric, Eric! Is that you?”
“Please, please wake up.”
The world around her slim frame
Began to quake and shiver
The entire thing crumbled down
Burying her, light not a sliver.
A hand shook her shoulder bare
A new light began to glare.
A voice was calling
A voice so tender
Calling her back to the living
“Ash, shh… It’s ok now.
It was all just a dream.
Not need for you to fret,
No need for you to scream.
I’m here for you
I won’t ever go.
Ash, my Ash,
I love you so.”

Quietly, in the windy night
In the dark,
A girl had a fright.
Her lover came
By candle flame,
To scare the
night terrors