Sparrow

Sparrow

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Block Writer Block Writer



About Me

I'm an average teenage girl. Except, I love to write. My favorite story has to be Oscar Wilde's The Nightingale and the Rose and my favorite type of stories to read are the fantasy thrillers, dashes of mystery and a cause that relates to mine. I write stories kinda like that. Naturally, when one first hears a teenager is writing stories, they expect it to be lacking this certain whimsical touch that entices one to continue. Anyone who has read my stories will tell you that touch isn't missing. I will not boast, for my skills are lacking in many areas and I work improve in those fields. I do not feel the need to be conceited and egoistic. I am merely stating a well known fact that I surpass my peers.

I am the revolt against the anarchy, the rebel opposing rebels. I do not wish to appease the crowd that is the roaring in my ears, nor do I find it appealing to follow them into the dark. I settle with walking away from the conflict that is the teenage battleground. I am no gladiator, but the lion is tamed and the bodies purged, and the world is my stage. I like to think of myself as a sparrow in a world of crows and ravens, hence the name presented before you.

I have six siblings not including me; three are brothers, three in turn are sister. I am the middle child, and the black sheep, a title I take with pride. I am the peacemaker when fights are struck and I am passive, which is why my main heroines are impassive, strong-willed, and often cause pain to those around them. In my mind, I have yet to grow from the age five, and all around me my peers are blooming with the attention-snatching need. I often receive taunts. Also, I tend to write of violent occurrences and many of my peers fear me.

I hope my work will not be overseen because of my inability to explain myself.


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Posted 15 Years Ago


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Little Girls and Little Lambs
by Kate Greenaway

IN the May-time flowers grow;
Little girls in meadows go;
Little lambs frisk with delight,
And in the green grass sleep at night.
Little birds sing all the day,
Oh, in such a happy way!
All the day the sun is bright,
Little stars shine all the night.
The Cowslip says to the Primrose,
"How soft the little Spring wind blows!"
The Daisy and the Buttercup
Sing every time that they look up.
For beneath the sweet blue sky
They see a pretty Butterfly;
The Butterfly, when he looks down,
Says, "What a pretty Flower Town!"