Posts
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A Nine-Year Journey
For nine years, I've been a part of YWP and for nine years, I've felt seen by this community. Even as I've grown up, I've watched new young writers come and share their thoughts, emotions, and stories. -
Beaming writer
In sixth grade, our class had a show-and-tell every week,
and every week, a small handful of students were selected to participate in the next one.
As I was selected, anxiety kicked in.
I wasn't really proud of anything. -
Love And Embalming
They carried you away in a black hearse.
Our black eyes,
beaten and bruised by love,
caressed your black coffin.
They opened your casket and there you were,
your eyes closed,
relaxed and so cold,
and yet you seemed so alive. -
The Throbbing Fires of Longing
It comes and goes in waves,
the throbbing in my throat,
in my chest,
and in my heart.
It seeps in and out again,
the fires in my eyes,
in my stomach,
and in my lungs.
It flaps and thrusts about, -
Charlie Said To Me
Blending together, swirling in confusion,
I can hear them bicker.
As though it were a classroom, I take attendance.
Mom?
Oui? C'est quoi?
Izzie?
Uhhh, my name is actually Death, but here! (Haha)
Mrs. Brune? -
Deliver Her Unto Me
Fields of stone angels,
depictions of divine sorrow,
stained with wetness,
cracked and crumbling,
aged terribly and unkept,
shake beneath my hand
and weep into grave soil.
She went too soon.
She was just a child.