Margaret Sok

I fear writing is all that can cure the emptiness of my heart

827

Writings

177

Followers

Following

Margaret Sok

I fear writing is all that can cure the emptiness of my heart

827

Writings

177

Followers

Following

Tearful Revelation

Margaret Sok

1 min read

Tears can cause a wave of emotion

To crash within the heart,

Filling it with revelation—

_I love you,_ he confessed.

_It’s too late_, she cried....

Poetry

Mirror Loop

Margaret Sok

1 min read

I screamed, but my mouth did not move. As I rose my hands, the mirror image refused to copy. Instead, my reflection pounded on the glass, as if I were trapped. She pointed behind me, begging me to listen to her.

I turned, only to feel a push on my chest.

I crashed through the mirror.

“You fool,” my reflection shouted. “Now we are trapped together.”

I stare at her, trying to comprehend what jus...

A Gentle Creature

Margaret Sok

1 min read

A gentle giant I believed you were

With your large, long furry legs

And sharp tusks that curved

Like the crescent of forgotten moons.

Your beautiful, lengthy hair

Covered you like a blanket,

Keeping the warmth within your heart.

A mighty trunk hung near your tusks, it

Breathed the cold breeze you so often walked through.

It’s a shame such a strong, gentle creature

Will forever be trapped in...

Poetry

Five Crows

Margaret Sok

1 min read

Five crows sit on my lawn, staring me down.

A ghost I’ll be in five days time.

_Be wary of five_

_Who seem to thrive_

_Off you being alive…_

The rhyme comes to my mind, invoking pure fear within me. Someone wants be dead.

I walk outside, near the omens of death to find bird seed scattered in mounds.

I turn and assess my yard, desperately searching for something that proves someone commi...

A Dragon Check-up

Margaret Sok

1 min read

“Well Mr. Flame, your wings seem in good shape,” Dr. Ash said. “But your scales seem so…pale.”

Dr. Ash inspected Mr. Flame’s dragon scales, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Mr. Flame’s once gleaming gold scales looked like a pale yellow. He used to shine like the sun, but now he looked like a dull morsel of corn.

“I’ve been a bit off,” Mr. Flame explained. “My mouth constantly tastes like cinde...

Hidden Pain

Margaret Sok

1 min read

She hide her pain

Like the blood within her veins.

Her paleness and numerous tears

Diminished her once golden years.

A beautiful, lovely soul

Pained by a heavy toll.

No one noticed the cracks in her shield

Until she shattered and it revealed

A brokeness that couldn’t be fixed

As long as she’d exist.

And so the girl faded away

As her loved ones wished her to stay.

All they could do was cr...

Poetry

Change

Margaret Sok

1 min read

When you’re weary of days

Passing with the same monotone,

Remember the change

That is yet to forecome.

Notice how the trees

Turn golden and crimson

When the weather grows cold?

Notice how flowers bud and blossom,

Wither,

Yet still return?

Notice how the moon

Goes through phases,

Yet it will always continue to shine?

Change will come

Even in the times

That feel the same....

Poetry

Slumber Buds

Margaret Sok

1 min read

The soft buds speckled the land—a sign of impending beauty ready to bloom…and a sign of doom.

“We’ll be asleep in seconds, Trove. Once the flowers bloom, we’ll be doomed.” Margot put her hands through her hair. “The sleeping scents will cast slumber upon the lands. It doesn’t make it any better that the flowers are planted on a hill.”

Trove surveyed the budding flowers. He shook his head in unac...

The Speckled Rose

Margaret Sok

1 min read

**_Speckled rose_**

—————————

- bittersweet, speckles are fruitful

-blossoms light pink with orange speckles

-hates the sunlight, wait _no_, loves the sunlight

**Water**? —fresh, cold H2O

**Planting**

—————

Does best under a large tree, yet will still flourish in a field with other species

The **_Speckled Rose_** is very unique and has a strange enigmatic appearance.

It’s the perfect flower...

My Mind Misunderstands

Margaret Sok

1 min read

My mind misunderstands my body.

I wish to be soft,

Yet my features are rugged and harsh.

I am not an elegant rose,

But rather a scornful thorn—

My minds misunderstands....

Poetry