Rhymed Stories

This is for everyone who's healing from love. If you find yourself suffering from heartbreak, loss of a loved one, grief, a situationship or trying to get over someone, this is for you. I hope you can find a little bit of peace in these poems . <3

Bright small, glitchy, red panels flashed across his vision. It frightened him, blocking his vision from his surroundings, unable to see the others that surrounded him. The panic, anger, and caution. It merely heightened his fear more than the others, it made him feel claustrophobic. Like the walls had started to close around him, it felt like it. The small boxes of pure code, felt like walls that closed in on him. The faint strings of unknown code surrounded him, rewriting the existing ones he made. It made him nauseous, he felt something missing. Something that had been forcibly removed from his code, it made him panic. Gagging at the atrocious feeling it bought, vision blurring as he tipped forward. Unable to hear the cries of fear as he fell. As faint puffs of smoke surrounded him, it felt.... oddly comforting.... ___________________________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ __________________________________OR________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 007n7 Turns into a child.

Poem's I've written in 2026! I'm not going to do months like last year cause last year I was only on Wattpad for two months

The morning chores followed the same pattern they always had. Four strikes of the hoe into the dry earth. Four steps forward. Repeat until the row was finished. Oscar Pine had learned this rhythm from his aunt, who had learned it from her father, who had learned it from his father before him. The Folk-Square style was honest work, nothing fancy, just the steady pulse of survival.

phrases, poems and a bit more

Poems about life, love, wisdom, nature, and... pleasant evenings! Enjoy!

To Liam and to all the people who broke me down.

𝑊𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝐼'𝑚 𝑎𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑦 (:

when things got hard you left because it was easier for you to walk out than to stand by me and fight you are just like the others guess you never loved me like you said you did

'From my Heart's Attic' is a collection of poems. This book was born from the whispers of my heart. Each poem carries pieces of love, guilt, healing, and hope. From my attic of thoughts to your hands; I hope you find a part of yourself here. Copyright Reserved

A Poetry Collection that contains a mix of light and dark. Each piece crafted from the heart and derived from past experiences, emotions and thoughts.

Venthan stood on stage, watching the two men singing "Sonia, Sonia, charming Sonia" without betraying a single emotion on his face - but inside, he was fuming. The reason? Singing alongside them was none other than the love of his life. Unaware of his simmering jealousy, she was enjoying herself thoroughly, her voice blending sweetly with the song. She had no idea that he was angry... nor did she know that he was in love with her. Matching the mood of the song perfectly, Rhythm stood between the two men, singing her heart out. It was a popular television reality show for singers. In the previous season, the top 10 contestants had been paired into ten groups, each teaming up with a famous playback singer. Every team had a well-known playback singer as the leader. The winners of the senior-level singing competition served as deputy leaders for each team. Winners of the junior-level competition were the team's child singers. The winners from the teenage-level competition in the previous season joined the teams as an additional member.

poems for the love of my life

Just gonna post all my poems here in case I die, I would leave my legacy. Not fully in chronological order. If it's very depressing, I was probably young lol

These are some of the poems written by me. Each of them are whirlpool of emotion. Hope you enjoy. These are self written poem. I do not allow anyone to plagiarize my work.

Hannah Hughlett is tired of being a wallflower, now with the help of her best friend Hunter, and her newly revised summer to-do list she is going to step out of her shell and create the summer you only dream of, with the events that only Hollywood can conjure up, and toss onto the big screen. What she's looking for is adventure, but will she find something more?

things I feel when I can't sleep. poems, letters, shorts stories and basically anything that comes to mind when it's 3 AM and I need to let it out.

This is a series of simple steps to becoming more flexible. If you perform these exercises often, you will see a difference in your flexibility. I myself wanted to be more flexible, and couldn't find many stretches that gave me a fast outcome. These are some that I find help a lot. I hope you enjoy!! *Edited and Completed* Started: December 2015 Completed and Edited: June 2016

Welcome poets, poetess', and poetry aficionados, to PoetryIN's contest book. Here, we will have writing contests to celebrate poetry in India! With that being said, welcome aboard!

Begging won't work, it only brings him more satisfaction. Crying will only prolong your life in the slightest, but at that point you'll wish you were dead. Being quiet only makes him know you're trying to be strong, though you're failing and you both know it. Nothing ever works, in this house of madness. Once you've stumbled upon the door step, you'll wish you had listened to the saying "curiosity killed the cat". Because in this house, you're the cat, also known as his prey. You'll never leave, never escape. Few make it past midnight, even less make it pass 2:00 a.m. Almost no one makes it past 4:00 a.m., and no one, has made it to the morning.