Most recently published stories in Poets.
January first, 2010 Three pudgy-muscled guards walked down the black frozen hall of death row The prisoners all hissed coldly at them
By Candice Johnson7 years ago in Poets
Jobs, Obligations, Problems- Everything on the hanger left, And embark on the rhythm of music, All inhibitions forget.
By Arzun Nasufova7 years ago in Poets
It's late, it's dark, no stars I try so hard but i can't I stare so deep into my heart Am i cold, am i hot or lukewarm What is the purpose of life?
By Harydo Neon7 years ago in Poets
How can this be? This psychotic thing that you did to me And how was I so blind to not see? Maybe I had faith in you Faith to believe that this was something you would never do
By Alicia Del Re7 years ago in Poets
If I could sit down and have bubble tea with you, I would tell you the truth. You are in over your head, dealing with those who will never help themselves.
By Amanda Zylstra7 years ago in Poets
No one should ever suffer from "Depression." Not a child. Not an adult. Not even me. You see I was born underneath the word "Depression."
By Daynia Anthony7 years ago in Poets
Supremacists, nationalists, history advocates— they march because they say they will not let their place in history be forgotten.
By Jose Juarez7 years ago in Poets
When you’re thinking negative… When it’s a struggle just to live. When life don’t make no kind of sense…You’ve had enough of the pretense.
By Steven Baldry7 years ago in Poets
I only come here to take a stand against the shit that you do. I will not put up with all the lies and all the bad things
By Amber Crocker7 years ago in Poets
As I sit here listening to these sick beats, these soothing lullabies, and these passionate screams, As I feel the rhythm in my bones,
By Ilana Weiss7 years ago in Poets
Time seems to trickle away Slaving day by day Listening to the sounds of the voices in my head pounding away Like thunder the drums boom in my ear
By Tamia Boykin7 years ago in Poets
Make me over a stone on the roll, trample and shake off old moss The waste and detritus, it flies away, a most agreeable loss
By Daniel Cole7 years ago in Poets