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williegonnawonkya

  • 9/11/2001

    Dust clouds fill the streets.Screams fill the once calm air.People run for their lives.Loved ones gone missing.Many wounded.Most of them lay dead.Hands waving for help.Life crumbling,brick by brick.Th

    • Poetry
    • Narrative
    1 min read
  • Eyes

    Pirate, cyclopes.That's what they called me.Some of them still do.Clumsy ole hurt then,hurts now.If it happened to you,you'd be hurt too.You can't change how you were born,but you can change ...

    • Poetry
    • Dramatic
    1 min read


The thing about plummeting downhill at fifty miles an hour on a snack platter - if you realize it's a bad idea when you're halfway down, it's too late.
— Rick Riordan, The Son of Neptune