We May Well Be The Ones : Writing

progress is a foreign task

progress is a foreign task

A Poem by We May Well Be The Ones


in my bones I feel the dirt echoed tones and blistered hurt lightened loads everyone knows, everyone knows dusty skin from distance held car..
memoried living

memoried living

A Poem by We May Well Be The Ones


I feel when you breeze through my hands through veins and tones and cracks but you're not coming back I think if I'll see you again if I'd freeze ..
wine and roses

wine and roses

A Poem by We May Well Be The Ones


I'll hold my breathe cause I'm leaving here my memories and demons collide I'll hold my chest cause I'm losing it my faith and my eyes every wor..
hints that speak of nothing

hints that speak of nothing

A Poem by We May Well Be The Ones


when you close your eyes and breathe upon my lips I know you're home can you justify feeling different cause states make you unsure I just don'..
dier need

dier need

A Poem by We May Well Be The Ones


I really feel that above everything, the singulars and the polys. that good people with good hearts will always find ways to become better than momen..
flames to a fire

flames to a fire

A Poem by We May Well Be The Ones


every whisper every scream you won't control me I was given these fingers to say what I need they have stories you thought you could beat ..
heart beats never last

heart beats never last

A Poem by We May Well Be The Ones


oh you buried me quickly like I wasn't alive will you remember my eyes? while you're leaving goodbye do you remember the late nights when you lie..
burried treasure

burried treasure

A Story by We May Well Be The Ones


There’s always been a distinct indifference between a child and an adult, not the obvious size discrepancy or mental development but rather the ..
the war continues

the war continues

A Poem by We May Well Be The Ones


when I dream, I'm asleep in an ocean sinking fast to the sands that nobody sees I move but only in slow motion all this weight on my bones is burry..
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A Story by We May Well Be The Ones


A ghost came to me one morning as I awoke from the comfort of my sleeping bag in my small one bedroom apartment. The ghost was a little girl, a four y..