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The red strings Float around the people, Trembling in joy and in strife. I wish it would break, I wish it would burn, I wish this nightmare Would never return. Yet they're always there, Never ending, Always teasing, Even as I pray, the strings always stay

<p> <em>"We're so proud of you." </em> Yes, I know. Yes, I see. Yes, I know that they're expecting much of me. I can't say I'm ready. I can't say I'm brave so I put one foot out the door, cowering in fear and shame. And yet they cheer, and cheer me on, encouraging me as I put on a kid's play...

There's no rhyme, but it has meaning and a kind of groove

This poem reminds me that society, although it pretends to care, doesn't really care as much as it says it does. Society let's us live, yet it can be the death of us. Mm.... Sorry if I said something weird here. Your poem was pretty good (does not suck at all -.-)

I actually didn't know what a prose was until about a week ago, so don't take my word for it, but this looks more like a prose than a poem.

The first thing I noticed about this was the number five. I wonder if that number has any significance in this novel. Anyway, I've never really read stories that was told from a first person's perspective, but then again, I don't really read that much. Usually, the works I read use third person...

Thanks. I'll continue to write when the inspritation comes. It's quite enjoyable ^.^ This is actually based on my experience, which I found was relatable to other people.

Our Dance I see you there Nice to meet you Let's begin the dance Just start on my cue One step, two step Three step, four We rumba, We romp We tango, We waltz The phone orchestrated a symphony Our beat was ultimately break-dancing And suddenly you had an epiphany That our...