Novel & Cerita Poetry About Dying Young

Besides, even in her wildest fantasy, a human would never stand a monster like her. One cursed to live in the shadows, never to stand the bright rays of the noon sun, those that shed light and warmth and perpetuated the life of every colorful plant in its simplicity. She would never understand what it would be like, to die as an infant of a hundred years, to fully live and spend all her youth drinking dirty beer and dancing in crazy lights as it was revealed in the eyes of her many victims. There was so much meaning in their deaths, those countless youths. And if somehow they would pass, for a time, this eventful fate and enjoy the bitter fix of old age, they would still

My younger brother, Jason Callahan, died the day before school started. He jumped from the sixteenth floor of our apartment building. His head was twisted unnaturally to one side. There was not much blood. His tiny body lay curled in a dark pool beneath him. However, the strangest thing was the expression on his face. He was smiling. The moment people saw that smile, the entire crowd sucked in a sharp breath. It was still the face of a child, young and innocent at first glance, yet the smile carried something vicious and unsettling far beyond his age.

“Is everyone thinking the same thing? Alaric is cunning like a fox, and the Ross family has a young cunning fox too. When both cunning people work together, they’re going to end up wreaking havoc. So, please don’t blame me for worrying too much. I’m someone who died many times and understands what death means more than anyone else.” “I work with you because I see no hope,” Mrs. Plath said gently and took a deep breath. “Because I can’t see any hope, so I became disappointed. At our age, we no longer have the passion that we had when we’re young. How much… hope do we have left to strive for in our lives?” “We are still alive so that we can die in a better way later. Understand?” That man’s vo

Today something interesting happened. I died. How awful, they’ll say. How tragic. And she was so young, with everything ahead of her. There will be an article in the paper about how I burned too bright and died too young. My funeral will be small…a few weeping friends, some sniffling neighbors and acquaintances. How they’ll clamor to comfort my poor husband, Gray. They’ll promise to be there for our daughter as she grows up without me. So sad, they’ll say to each other. What was she thinking?

“What mom? How can you say that--” She gave me her phone. There was a poem he had written. “I’d love it if you read this and think that I feel anything for her-- “She was my life, she left, life left. Never had anything, even my soul has left. Being a boy was never the best thing, When the only girl I ever loved left. Do you know that feeling? When there is nothing to see? Because you just don’t know What you should be? When there is no reason to live

Sky says as she jesters with her hands to me. I took a couple of deep breaths before I began to read my poem out loud. Gathering my nerves before I speak. Lifeless Lost and alone left empty without a home. Watching as the wind blows, chattering through hollow bones. Words are nothing but a sound cracking and breaking with each bound. A girl once set to sore left with oozing pores, born in a world torn in two. Amber eyes stare into the starry skies, locks of blonde hair ripped from a head now bare. A face that once held so much grace, revealing split flesh tattered like mesh. Words are nothing but a sound cracking and breaking with each bound. Tears shed out of so many fears, crying in the da

Age is something magnificent for it builds at the expense of youth. A bearable illness, contagious to life as a whole. ●Love is not Dying. Have you ever been empty of tears?. Have you cried but your voice be on mute?. Have the thought of rope hanging or knife poking or pill overdosing or poison swallowing or better pistol triggered been an easy escape from that moment they call 'weakness'? or seemed like the best solution or the best suitable alternative of peace? .Have you ever fallen so deep that space seemed measurable? Have ye ever suffocated by oxygen, same oxygen you breathe in, same air you live with? .No? .Yes?.

As the rosy color of the dawning sky slowly moved away, the chirping and whistling of the birds can be heard, all lively and happy to the world it seemed, for all we know it wasn't the tune of happiness, merely it was the tune of misery, heartache and pain lost in this universe of disbelief and fake, we settle upon the beauty of fake happiness, yet little do we know with each passing day we are dying bit by bit, our life is fading away by the tips of our fingertips against the breeze of fate. There comes a time, a second when you see the world before you crash. It was as though your breath had been caged within the walls of your ribs and your body was numbed with fear. All you could do at th

I will rage against the dying light. They say that life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!"

He killed me. All things that have life will eventually wither away — that is the fundamental truth of life. We will all wither away and die sometime in the future. After we have fought the wars, faced the trials and tribulations, overcome the challenges, we all will die at the end. After pushing through the hurdles of our youth and adulthood, after trying our hardest to stay alive and survive till the next day, we will all still die at the end. This just tells us that all is vanity.