Profound Stories

just a book of original poetry. a place, to express what you can't just say.

it's 4 in the morning; 4:25 to be exact. i get the sudden urge that this is something i have to do. a collection of my poetry when the words are too much to bear it spills out of my trembling fingertips, violently and ungracefully, all at once. if you ever feel the same way, enjoy. this is her story. 4:26 am.

His name is Cipher, he's really odd and quiet yet I can't stop thinking about him, he has this way with words that makes the big hairy jocks hearts melt. Our teachers have taken to running lesson plans by him, the lunch ladies actually smile when they see him, hell even the old crusty janitor waves at him. He's the most intriguing boy at school and insists that people tell him what they feel. Indie isn't the only word to describe him, he's a mix of surreal and Charlie Kalmeckis. Isn't that dreamy? Then he slowly descended into oblivion.

The time to explore the slither of my world, a world unlike your own, has passed. For my world has changed, at life's decree. And so, if you will, let us explore the ways in which tomorrow can differ from today. Let us explore the ways in which one day can help us grow. The difference in tomorrow. #29 in Profound

The title pretty much speaks for its self These are quotes I love. Some are from movies,some are from celebrities. Some of them you might know.

||previously titled "Suz's Poetry"|| Just a few odds and ends. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. THESE ARE ALL MY ORIGINAL WORDS. BE KIND TO THE AUTHOR!!!

Poems to myself. Poems to the moon. Poems about anything that I want.

blatherskite noun a person who talks at great length without making much sense. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A collection of poetry, mostly written in the dark of the early morning

Stray Kids stories

Smol poems or thoughts that I came up with. Ramblings so to speak

" where she is the queen " At this point, my words don't even mean anything, my lines are random, my meanings are all over the place, my endings are left in the middle. I've not the slightest idea if I can compose something coherent. It all feels like being in a buzzing muse now.

A collection of poems about the human condition.

A spiritual short story about emotional perception.

Prior to the commencement of a narrative, a poetic prophecy was shared, recounting the journey of nine maidens as they navigated the fabric of this realm. Whether they encountered beauty or sorrow, every element transformed into their purest form before their eyes.

a collection of poems i wrote while on the toilet

Everyone knows The Wave is coming. Every aspect of your life is shaped by what you think The Wave will be, and how it will impact the world. One Young Woman refuses to accept any of the established Wave categories; instead, she runs. And one day, while running, she meets an Old Woman, who seems to understand The Wave better than anyone . . . and who claims it has already come.

I let my words eat me up My thoughts consume my every waking moment So that when I put pencil to paper My words make your mind crumble And rebuild again With my perspective As your new empire • A collection of cowardly courageous poems. Scrambled moments of my life and thoughts that run through my head. • Zamzam Ahmed

Dear Time, I guess this is my way of expressing myself to the world. No one knows my name, and I remain Anonymous. Honestly, I don't know why I'm even publishing this online. Maybe, deep down, I want my voice to be heard, my memories to be shared, and my life to be loved--just how I see it. I want to speak without others judging me, or telling me what to feel. I want to just be myself. Yes, I suppose this is some sort of Time Capsule... something I'll look back on years later when I'm thirty and living in a house with a family. I'll cover my mouth in horror looking back on the reminiscences of my youth. Or maybe, this becomes something I don't even finish. But, I do hope that with my words, I can make some sort of difference. So that, even as the years go by and I grow older, people can look back at the lessons I've learned, the thoughts I've had, and keep them close to their heart. And maybe, just maybe...they can share these lessons too. It's a futile hope, but it's there. Yours, Anonymous

Here lie the roses, the roses that are the foundation of my rose garden, pluck them gingerly, here lie the roses that grew full of toxins and purity. Here lies my heart, My Rosetūm. All pictures in the story are mine!

Random thoughts that accumulate from time to time.