 |
Wind is whistling.Clouds are thickening. My roots are dug up from the ground.Dad is still screaming really loud. "I used to sit under that tree,"I say..
|
 |
I wanta casket built with laceno wood, no fabricto sheath my faceI want you to see these porcelain scarsthat cage me inlike iron barsI want to see how..
|
 |
Story of a little kidnapped girl. Mature.
|
 |
THIS IS THE CRAZY A*S S**T THAT ALEXANDER, PETER, AFGHANICA, AND I JUST DECIDED TO WRITE DOWN. ENJOY.
|
 |
I... Can't... Stop... The... Spew... Of... Writing...
|
 |
I don't even know, all I know is that I'm proud of myself for writing this.
|
 |
Dear Jesus Christ I can't even stop crying. This is my anorexia story.
|
 |
Lightning erupts in the predawn skyas the mother kisses her babies goodbye to go work in the beauty parlor in the toughest, roughest part of Harlem Sh..
|
 |
I got assigned to do a story based on irony and romance in my English class. So the Leaf Boy, a story of Calvin and Brill l was created. Please, revie..
|
|
We are like flowers
through our life
we wither and fade
our petals break,
and prettier flowers are made
but through and through,
we are strong, ..
|
|
|
first
prev
Profile
Writing
Friends
Share This