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SplendidSentience is such asilly stupor.
Life Storya child was born as creative as can be and he wanted to write the wonders of the world. needing more experiences to write about he approached his father. the aged man read over his sons work and told him Be sure to use capital letters at the start of sentences! The boy apologized and wrote a second draft. Time passed, and he returned. Is that better now? he asked with new hope. "Be sure to use quotes when somebody is speaking!" Alright thought the boy Ill get it right this time for sure. Adding in the quote marks he went to his father again. "Father I added everything you asked and Im sure its perfect now." Handing it over his father frowned. "No, this will not do. Be sure to use commas when needed!" Studying commas, the boy planted them with care. Even more time passed. With confidence, he showed his father his next work of art. "Hows this one, Father?" The boys smile faded when his critic put the story down with a disapproving move. "It's still not qu
Crying WolfI've never really understood the concept of trusting people. It seems silly that anyone would commit altruism against their self-interests. After all, my old lady was that way. For instance, she never cleans the house despite my constant choking on the dense, hazy fumes. "Dense as she is!" my father would always say. She counter-complains that it's better than living outside with no roof. I always wonder about this. We live in a miniscule speck on an endless field of bore, and it still seems more appealing than our peeling walls. No one else around has a smoke shack that is loved more than a son, and that's not saying much, really. Our neighbors never liked my parents, either; they have the same contempt I do. Our house is like a country of its own where child labor is legal. Thankfully, the neighbors don't mind saving me from that iron maiden I live in."Oh, hi thar, dear!" Mrs. Andrews opened the door with a toothy smile as whipped out a cig. "I hope
So It GoesI love the way I am with you.No lies no jokeNo worry no gloatNo little mistakesNo horrible hopeI love the way I am with you.No hate no slackNo pain in the backNo useless thoughtsNo words caught in knotsI love the way I am with you.So why can't you lovethe way I am too?Oh well.
The Story of a ManHis hands held his ownon the large black table in which he sat,as if he had something to prove.I considered a moment if it was simply becausethere was no one else there to fill the spaces,but that thought was just passing through.His eyes stared through panesof the cursing window as the day grew,His thoughts bloody from breaking through.The people looked in with a curious gaze,Faces concealed with the death of the daysand the nights howled with laughter.His heart grew colder as the night,And faces became a sacred blur;Their thoughts shorter andvoices quieter 'till the darkMurdered the light and thenNothing.
Falling Conversation"So.. I think I'm going to die."The branches reached down like arms of heaven. He shook a hand and squinted as the falling colors freed up space for the breaking light. His friend's mind did a half turn, distracted by Fall's beauty."...Excuse me?" she said, lowering her own hand from above her eyes. "Where did that come from?""I'm not sure. I just don't think I'll live too far into winter, is all."Dry moss upholstered a log like nature's ottoman, and she sat with an annoyed expression in her hands. "Jesus, you're only 17."He leaned against a stocky white tree."It felt like an eternity to me." he retorted with a similar stare."Well don't make it sound so casual.." There was a pause and her lids weighted her head toward the ground as the silence hinted that he was serious."Can you talk please?" She demanded shortly."Just forget about it. Besides.. the world will stay as beautiful as it always is." He helped her off the dead tree and messed her hair like he always did when things
You and IYou are not the one who suffers,You damned misguided fool forYou have no past to speak of andYou left me here as feed whileYou cower in your shell andYou claim those fake tears swellInside your hidden soul.I clung there in the joyous past asI waited for those chances thatI foolishly let you have reveal allI needed to let me stay, yet stillI saw those promises one by one;I let them crash to hell, and I hopeTo hell it made you happy.