"Why do you hate us so much?!" "Because it's fun!" -Violet Baudelaire, Count Olaf, A Series of Unfortunate Events, episode 8
By Chloe2 years ago in Poets
In dusty corners, shadows sigh, Where trinkets whisper stories gone. A chipped teacup, once vibrant sky, Holds memories, now forlorn.
By Buzu2 years ago in Poets
I miss delicious Sunday mornings with the curtains wide open, sunshine and coffee on the rooftop and a book on my knee, broken sunglasses I love too much to replace,
By sleepy drafts2 years ago in Poets
A lot of things said The lot that was said The aspired aspirations Where did they all go? A lot of aspirations
By Ayomide Oyeyinka 2 years ago in Poets
The day begins for villagers in January’s winter by drilling a stick into wood, creating a spark. That spark becomes fire and calls people to gather around it.
By Arjun Sahasya2 years ago in Poets
Caressing his innocent face From his forehead down to his little nose Carefully moving her fingers to his fluffy cheeks
By Mi Gae2 years ago in Poets
There is so much love That everyone has for you That people use you To take and take and take They take through you even
By Manisha Dhalani2 years ago in Poets
Come one Come all Buy your tickets now Get them before They’re sold out All the cool cats Will be there The C Notes World Tour
By Mother Combs2 years ago in Poets
The hallway stretches, silent and vast, Where once it echoed with her playful blast. Each step I take, a hollow beat, A ghost of her laughter, bittersweet.
By a broken heart2 years ago in Poets
My world used to be painted in vibrant hues, A kaleidoscope of laughter, shared dreams, and views. But your absence, a thief in the night,
Each raindrop paints a tearful streak, Mirroring the sorrow, too deep to speak. The windowpane, a blurred screen, Hiding the storm within, unseen.
By Ivan2 years ago in Poets
The moon hangs fractured, a mirrored soul, Shattered pieces clinging to a hole. Its silver light spills, a mournful sigh,
