Poems About Society Novels & Stories

it's a sin to be an orphan or poor being shouldn't live in this rich people's world. I hate this society. The week before, they sent my classmate who was like me to f country. she was an innocent who considers me as her friend even if I avoid her. it's hurting. Why won't they be happy without making a profit with other people's lives? what they will get from this. - Amanda ___ 10 th June 20yx Dear God,

but unable to bring the truth finally when they're near to find the truth they were no more this is the society krish somethinks one who have power wins somethinks the one who have will power they wins somethinks the one who cares for other or who supports others wins many things but the truth in society is the one who backstabs they wins they won already proof is we three people me, mehak and lucky what we did or our parents did everyone struggled for this selfish society they wished for happiness of these people but in the end what we got we became orphans and our parents became criminals when the criminals are in the mask of good people no one can change this people or society krish when

The barriers that kept the forces in the dark at bay would finally see a crack, and the world would be flooded with its own end. ....................................….. ABD News- "We are amongst ourselves one of the leading economists and social researchers in the world, Dr. Schewenstein. On the popular demand of the audience, we would like to have a chat with him regarding his beliefs of the current society and the blockbuster thesis regarding the fragile structure of the social order." The reporter turned to the man beside her, who was in his mid-forties. "What do you expect to be the balance breaker of this world?" The reporter addressed a much more popular sentiment

The society's power crumbled under the weight of undeniable proof. In that moment, we realized the true power of truth and the resilience of the human spirit. Our fight had not been in vain. The hidden society, once untouchable, was now exposed and held accountable for their actions. The world was forever changed, and a new era of transparency and justice began to dawn.

Don’t say to me that I should forgive these men, they had done more harm than good to the planet we live in. The society needs a revolution and that could begin with me and… yes with me… And my kind, the kind of woman who posses such gift as me. Whenever you walk into that courtyard there on the central space that is where you will find me, right there where men had built up a structure a monument of me, do you think they are fools to put up my structure on a court yard for justice and equity. I served it to them one after the other and watched them plead for mercy without getting it, the warm hands of Mr. Death cuddled some who are weak and I left on a palatable ground to suffer by day, oth

“If we’re bad, you can laugh.” The boy blinked and almost smiled. Almost. By the time the column had been sorted, the yard had a shape—lines, benches, a water line that moved like music instead of a fight. The clash did not happen at the gate. It moved back to the hall on everyone’s shoulders, and that is where cities live or die—under roofs, with words. They reconvened with river mud drying on their boots. The hall smelled like soup and ink. “Compassion without capacity is a poem that kills,” Kesh said, wiping his hands.

If I could be liked and fulfilled for my fold. I too see. I too want to see the fulfillment of my dream. But reality doesn’t agree to it. My desires carry no worth. There is blood on the walls. Someone has not all night slept. Someone is loud weeping. Someone’s only child is dead. Buried below the earth are many who never slept. Many who above earth weep, for their child is below the earth. All buried. The society doesn’t heal. There is pain. There is panic. I do not believe in any church that stands tall.

“You’re toeing the line of defecting.” “Bullshit, Jackson! I’m fucking tired. I want to live without rules and restraints–” “There are rules and restraints like any other society,” I interjected. He shook his head. “Not like ours. Name another society that forces you to surrender your young at birth?” “Currently? None,” I answered. “Our society places so much focus on the future, that we’re forgetting the present. And so what? So fucking what if we die out? We’re already dead, Jackson.”

We force them in our shoes, but we seldom put us in the pitied. Continuously driving ourselves to this diminished society, looking for worth when there is nothing left because of us. Here I am writing this poem. Is it filled with irony? Considerable as a meek step for an extravagant change? Or are you guilty of these words? We all are. We may not pull out our modern notebooks to be witnesses, but we keep our eyes on the action. We stare. We watch. We look at the devil's eye instead. Grasp the valorous act, yet still fill it with real humility.

In the depths of despair, amidst the ruins of a once thriving civilization, a courageous voice emerged, resonating with unwavering determination. "We shall rise," it declared, piercing through the desolation that shrouded the hearts of the weary. With every word, hope ignited like a flickering flame, casting its warm glow upon the faces of those who dared to dream. In this bleak landscape, where chaos reigned supreme, a vision took shape, a vision of a society reborn. It was a society built not on the crumbling foundations of greed and power, but on the pillars of justice