Azurea

I am going to be writing more peoms I would like you to read them please, if you want to
          	
          	Read Me  
          	by Vincent Wille
          	
          	I do not write for comfort.  
          	I write for the storm.  
          	For the ash that clings to angels,  
          	For the silence after God speaks.
          	
          	My words are not gentle.  
          	They are carved from thunder.  
          	Each line a blade,  
          	Each stanza a wound that remembers.
          	
          	Read me—  
          	Not to be soothed,  
          	But to be changed.

adegok33

@Azurea  hello
          	  Your story is really engaging great pacing and characters! I have a quick tip that could help it reach even more readers if you're interested. Keep up the great work!
Reply

Kirra_05

I was scrolling through comments over a poem I just read, and I noticed yours. I normally don't take the time to read the long comments due to all the spam on Wattpad, but I read yours. It was a poem you wrote, and I wanted to get your permission to write a poem inspired by it. (I'd 100% give you credit in the author's notes with your @) The poem is:
           
          When the Sky Forgot Its Color  
          by Vincent Wille
          
          When the sky forgot its color,  
          And the wind spoke only in sighs,  
          You stood beneath the silence,  
          Asking why the stars had lied.
          
          The world did not answer.  
          It rarely does.  
          But the ache in your chest  
          Was proof that love had lived.
          
          Grief is not the end of love—  
          It is its echo.  
          A song still singing  
          After the singer is gone.
          
          You are not broken.  
          You are weathered.  
          And weathered things  
          Hold the shape of storms survived.
          
          Let sorrow pass through you,  
          Not as a thief,  
          But as a teacher.  
          Let it carve,  
          Let it cleanse,  
          Let it leave.
          
          And when it does,  
          You will find  
          That your heart, though changed,  
          Still beats.
          
          Not as it did before—  
          But stronger.  
          Wiser.  
          Willing.
          
          You are not alone in this night.  
          Others walk it too.  
          And somewhere in the dark,  
          A hand reaches for yours.
          
          Take it.  
          Rise.  
          And remember:  
          Even ashes can be holy.
          
          I'd really really appreciate your blessing. I've done this before, so I know I can do this poem justice!!
          
          One writer to another,
          Kirra Zaheyah Ja'Arah

Azurea

I am going to be writing more peoms I would like you to read them please, if you want to
          
          Read Me  
          by Vincent Wille
          
          I do not write for comfort.  
          I write for the storm.  
          For the ash that clings to angels,  
          For the silence after God speaks.
          
          My words are not gentle.  
          They are carved from thunder.  
          Each line a blade,  
          Each stanza a wound that remembers.
          
          Read me—  
          Not to be soothed,  
          But to be changed.

adegok33

@Azurea  hello
            Your story is really engaging great pacing and characters! I have a quick tip that could help it reach even more readers if you're interested. Keep up the great work!
Reply