moosiegirl

The teacher sighed and stared at the little children coloring in the blue jay. He sees only blue and not vibrant mixtures of colors. But he is the one that ...

I was born in a clearing near a lakemy earliest memories are but little of that timeor maybeit's that i don't want to rememberI still remember from the back of ...

Mr. Finch would always drive that yellow car down to the drugstore on Monday mornings. Joey and me would sit on top of his fence and wave to him every ...

People who want to be friends should:Tell them when something looks bad on someonetell them if their jokes arn't funnystop being a bossy idiotstop trying to impress themmake sure to ...

My life is still a complete mess. I guess it was because I still haven't gotten over how bitch faced Carmille took my place, but that's for later. Right now ...

My life is still a complete mess. I guess it was because I still haven't gotten over how bitch faced Carmille took my place, but that's for later. Right now ...

Butterflies taste with their feet.A duck's quack doesn't echo, and no one knows 10 minutes, a hurricane releases more energy than all the world's nuclear weapons combined.On average, 100 people ...

Listen softly to the voices in my head.Care to tell me what they say?I know life isn't always the simplest thingSometimes its all that you can do, not to go ...

June 19, 1612 My story starts with a prick of blood, flowing endlessly down, past the second story window of the crowded city streets, behind the castle walls. The blood, ...

I wish… That I continued my heavy schedule… That I persisted my dreams… That I continued after I wanted to stop… I wish… That I was gorgeous… That I had ...

Standing there, eyes wide open, The world is at my feet. I openly grasp and cherish the moment Of palm against sandy stone, Of paper mache and of plaster paints. ...

I once felt a quite a fancy to live on Luau Lane. The simplistic setting was not found by me in vain. A buttercup and a daffadil are lolling around ...

You will let me fade. By breaking the branch, the petals fall, Like rain on the barren, desolate wood. It can be replaced, With gears and metals That rip young ...

I am from half-frozen microwave meals, From blankets woven for years by hand And crisp 600 thread count sheets. I’m from the rusting sputters. (Out of a car going Putt, ...

Your pale wristsHave tiny pink scratchesCut by the rusty boxcutter.You try too hard.Attention grabbing whore