Discussion Creative Writing Megathread

[lilichka]

Terror. Ask me to describe the feeling of terror, and I can only reply 'ecstatic'. Fervour. Justice. Spirit. Words that give meaning to terror, the order of the day.

Terror. Terror. The fear inflicted upon man by another man. I do not fear terror, on the contrary, I feel drawn towards it. Whether it be white, red, great, or reigning, terror inspires within me an urge to be drowned by the roaring tides of ardor.

Terror. Terror. Terror. Terrorism, terrorist, terrorizer. What do these words mean? Why do they decry it? Rally against it? How pitiful these men be, to not see the unnerving beauty of terror!

Terror. Terror. Terror. Terror. I walked up the stage and met my date for tonight; a tall woman with a sharp stare. I laid my head down on her lap, to the cheering of the crowd below us. I closed my eyes, and calmly awaited her loving touch on my nape. I was her greatest love, yet her latest victim.

Terror. Terror. Terror. Terror. Terror. Off with our heads!

 

[hybridtheory]

Sharing my writing

//

A girl's voice cries out, but it remains trapped within her own confines, unheard by the world outside. It unleashes a torrent of feelings within her secluded haven.

With each new day, she faces the same old wounds and the intrusive thoughts that shake her sense of calm.

She continues to escape, feeling adrift and unable to find anything reliable.

She guards herself against the inescapable truth, fearing the journey toward forgiveness, when deep down, all she truly desires is the solace of understanding that her burdens were never hers to carry alone.

A girl prioritizes her peace for such a long time that now, any sound beyond a mere whisper can make her feel jarring. She has established a refuge deep within herself.

She takes steps forward, yet also retraces her path—not to dwell in the past, but to integrate that part of herself into the now. The version of herself that was limited by a past that sought to disrupt her future now travels alongside her.

Her past self walks beside her present self, not to hinder her progress, but to observe the beautiful transformation into the person she was destined to become.

Although she is uncertain about her future identity, she will learn to embrace gratitude during her journey, no matter how fiercely the hurt tries to lead her astray.

—kels

 

[Watch_1T_All_Go_Bye]

I felt the Graveyard of Myself,
And grief, engraved my Name.
The grounds left behind—
A barren of my Brain—

My body was breathless
But a Beating, still abide.
And my Soul, buried beneath—
The bones, supine where they lied.

Nerves root in the Underground;
Marked crosses never meet.
Moss decays upon my lips—
The living Haunted— obliged, I did not speak.

My mind, akin to a closed casket—
Though, I skinned myself for Hope;
Only the tomb touched me undressed.
It was the Earth— and I alone.

(A poem I wrote two years after my friend died, may he rest in peace )

 

[WaistedPotential]

to be edited....
Once a mountain, weathered by rain.
Reduced to the sand, along the bay.
Then melted into something beautiful.

Your poem is so beautiful. It reminds me of one of my own I wrote a few years ago. I've graffitied it in a few random places before, so maybe it inspired someone. it goes like this.

thoughts fall like sheets of rain

each drop taking its pebble

no one hears the quiet erosion

or sees the hill was once a mountain.

 

[Life_and_Death]

Your poem is so beautiful

thank you
your comment came at just the right time too. just last night i was feeling like i cant write and was unsure if i ever could

thoughts fall like sheets of rain

each drop taking its pebble

no one hears the quiet erosion

or sees the hill was once a mountain.

i love your poem too. its amazing how so few words can sometimes say so much

 

[Oublivien]

A fine line between cutting out all emotions,
And letting them all run free
Rampant and uncontrolled
Both sides representing a hell,
One, bleak cold and lifeless
The other set aflame, screams pain and disorder

 

[intintint]

schizo

"Who am I but I am me?"
Poor me said, quite valiantly.
Yes, you are, but are you me?
You, i'm not, I disagree.
"Why can't you be? Don't you want to?
Look at yourself, what have done you?"
I hate what I see, so torn.
You, me, should've been unborn

You might be me, but I will not
Embrace what's left, what's gone to rot.
I see the mess, the flawed design,
A life undone, a tangled mind.
"How can you be so cruel, so cold?
Look at me, I am your soul
Can we not mend, can we not heal?
Let's be two, can't we just feel?"








stop
Screams all night, a shriek, a squeal
My eyes won't shut, my heart won't heal

My brain yells "the house is on fire",
A little quiet is my only desire
But my brain keeps yelling, " house on fire!"
Oh, please be quiet, no need for dire

"But what if it is? What if it was?
What if they hate? What if it does?
What if you do? What if you did?
But you won't, though would you bid?

They hate you, and they hate you
And you hate you, so they hate you
And you do wrong, and go so blue
So they hate you, can't you go through? "

Another night, the noise is there
My eyes wide open, they only stare
Red on my bed is all i need
A price for quiet, quite small indeed