Margaret Sok

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

714

Writings

154

Followers

Following

Margaret Sok

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

714

Writings

154

Followers

Following

The Key Bearer

Margaret Sok

3 min read

The cold dungeon brought shivers to my wet skin. My sopping wet hair was like a wet towel, wrapped around my shoulders. There were no windows to display light, or even the sea. I was left in complete darkness, alone with my thoughts and inquiries.

Why did the pirate, who went by the name Steel, capture me from my homeland’s beach?

I hear groaning wood as one of Steel’s men walk down holding a t...

A Ghostly Encounter

Margaret Sok

1 min read

I’ve been told his heart is made of stone, all feelings are void to him except rage and infliction of pain. Marcel won’t get away this time.

Thankful for my invisibility, I stalk Marcel, watching how he walks with arrogance and a bloodthirsty smile.

Hastily, he enters his home and immediately grabs a bottle of beer, bringing it to his lips and drinking it heavily.

“Marcel…” a small child whisp...

Not Loved.

Margaret Sok

1 min read

You said to trust you,

And I followed through and through

With blind trust and love.

I found beauty in

The fact that I was something

To you and your love.

What a fool I was

To put my undoubtly trust

In your cold, sharp heart.

It seems my blind trust

Lead me to the belief you

Loved, but it was lust....

Poetry

A Revenge

Margaret Sok

1 min read

Wandering in the gloomy cemetery, I read the inscribed last words of the dead. Grief is stricken in this small land of stone.

Last words inscribed on stone read:

_I love you. _

_Farewell. _

_Time pasted too fast. _

The inscriptions bring me heaviness, settling sadness upon my bones. But my eyes stop on one inscription that brings terror and paleness to my face.

_I will find the o...

I’m Forgotten

Margaret Sok

1 min read

I’m forgotten in class

By my teachers and peers.

Invisible I am;

My face drowned in tears.

I’m forgotten at university

While my parents are at home.

They seem to live fine without me;

I’m utterly alone.

I’m forgotten it seems.

Invisibility cloaks my face,

Yet my feelings still rage,

leaving sadness my only trace....

Poetry

The Forest Folk

Margaret Sok

1 min read

It was morning…barely. The sun was just rimming the horizon, the sky still darkened. Elena strided out in her white dress, barefoot as always, swinging her arms as she threw dried flowers in the air. She sang a common folk song as she twirled in the golden rising sun. Elena did this ritual everyday to gain favor from the forest folk, whom she believed were real.

From time to time, she would talk ...

If Only I Was A Flower

Margaret Sok

1 min read

My peculiar nature grows like a weed,

Near the beautiful petals

Of flowers grown from Beauty’s seed.

My boorish leaves stick out awkwardly,

And my mundane color

Shows I’m nothing orderly.

I plead with the sun to cast her rays

To brighten my complexion

For beauty to shine on me each day.

I ask the clouds for rain

So I’ll grow tall and strong,

Though they show disdain.

If only I was a flo...

Poetry

Time

Margaret Sok

1 min read

Again a year passed

With change in my bones.

I’ve grown, but I’ve fallen—

Time seems to tick me down,

Flashing me with passing seasons

And small moments I wish to hold.

I don’t want to grow older…I hate the change it brings.

Can’t I stay this young?

Every minutes that passes, I wish to keep.

But I’m old enough to know I can never stop Time.

Happy birthday to me....

Poetry

A Coffee Stop

Margaret Sok

1 min read

Cecelia looked at the strange-shaped pebbles with curiousity. Her head was pounding as she squinted at them.

“Zane, those pebbles look like coffee beans. I think it’s a sign I need coffee.” Cecelia said. She rubbed her forehead. “Like…right now.”

Zane rolled his eyes as he continued walking along the forest path.

The two woke before dawn to get an early start on their journey to the kingdom.

“Y...

A Surprised Day

Margaret Sok

1 min read

Adela and Damien worked quietly together at the writing table, glancing over articles and books that needed annotating and editing.

Everyday, the two worked together under the supervision of Professor Plato, who was always too busy to properly watch and help the students on their assignments.

Adela and Damien were the only two Writing majors on campus, meaning they spent a lot of time together, ...