I will write for you a poem.

I had a feeling we would see the world burn

It was one of the darkest nights of the year, silence reeked in the deepest darkest veins of the tunnel which would soon lead to dawn.

The moment when you are not fully awake, not fully asleep either. Your eyes are closed. But you can see the half-moon shining.

Putting down my phone, I shut down the laptop, leaving the newest article unfinished. Boss would have a fit if I fail to submit it by deadlines, but boss's wrinkled snobby face, etched with rage was at the very bottom of my priorities right now. Quickly microwaving some dinner, I rushed to get dressed.

The shattered jar; inherits a few broken cookies.

The lone crow watched the two siblings as they stumbled their way through the park. She sat atop a lamp post as the horizon turned crimson under the setting sun. A flock of birds flew across the park, maybe towards home, to their families. But the crow stood where she was.

Darling, wouldn't it be nice if you leave post-its,

I think there must be a song for this weather.

I'm breathing,

A child in a shabby black dress stared at the lustrous piece of rock in the window of the local jewelry shop.

The soggy bread tasted as stale as the pallid lily pink walls and the mirthless tedium that had dawned upon Sena's latter days.

"I was trapped in a room, with no escape. No exit. It had a pale yellow essence to it, like it had been plagued from jaundice. The walls had sickening lines scratched horizontally as if an animal had scraped hard with its nails out of anguish, producing an unnerving screech that erected the hair on your back. I looked around, and my stomach churned.

When she arrived for her double-date with her friends Simon and Sasha, she had been understandably disappointed with Ki-tae's unprepossessing looks. He was at best cute, if kept under dim lighting. Her taste in men tended towards the hard-bodied and pretty, the disposable sort whose warranty lasted at best three weeks of good fun.

The pattering of feet upon the pavement, some hurriedly, some slowly, nonchalantly.

There's something extraordinary about sunny winter afternoons. It's a rare combination and people don't get to experience it too often anymore.

I hate being nineteen, I thought to myself

While memories simmer gently and you creep upon my thoughts on the coldest of November nights,

In times less civilised than the era of The Wheel of The Youth, there would be The Youths putting themselves through hoops of degrees and high hopes of changing the world and wasting their lives believing they could “make a difference.”

Yasin's amazing smash gains Sundane another point against Summerbreeze. Three more points and they're through to the finals.