"For Everything He Gave". Updated.

Inside the church, it was silent. I watched over my shoulder as people filed in, everyone easily recognizable from somewhere, somewhere in that tiny town we all called home. But these people weren’t the people I saw every day, walking to school, shopping for groceries in the Minimart, pushing their way from class to class. These people were dark, sad versions of the friends I had, like shadows or ghosts, the life all but sucked out of them.
The church was big, made of those weird yellow bricks that seem to turn up out of nowhere at construction sites. Inside, it could have been mistaken for any 20th century church: dark wood paneling the walls and fake marble tiles making up the floor. When I was really young, maybe four or five, Father Joseph used to let me and the other four or five year olds run up and down the aisle before mass began. That’s how our town was, that close. Even now, looking around the room, I could point out those four and five year olds—now fifteen and sixteen—that I used to run around with. Even on that day, eleven years later.
For many, it was plainly and simply Thursday. It was ordinary, a day that would come and pass with the usual commotion of work or school. But for us, in our little town that had always been so close, it was so much more.
Beside me, Amanda Locke was sitting with her head resting against her arms, folded across the hard wood at the side of the pew. Her legs were crossed, her foot tapping slowly to her own silent rhythm.
“Amanda,” I whispered, reaching out to tap her shoulder. After a few seconds, she sat up straight in the pew, turning to look at me. She wasn’t saying anything and I knew she wouldn’t, not then, so I did. “I’m so sorry.”
It was then the organ music began to rise, and the doors at the back of the church swung open to reveal four men, each holding a corner of a deep mahogany coffin. The man in front on the left, I recognized immediately. I knew Amanda did, too. I felt her tense beside me, her breath shaking as she met the gaze of the man. He was her father, after all, and inside that mahogany casket was the body of his son.

* * * *

The Locke’s had lived on the same street as my family for six years. We lived in one of those neighborhoods that used to be super prestigious, but kind of broke down over time. Now, it was filled with two dozen little ranch style houses, with three or four of the giant Victorian mansions left. I only knew one family who lived in one of those houses, and that was the Locke’s.
I always wondered if they were lonely in that house. They didn’t have a big family, and without all of them home, it had to feel so empty. For so long, in that big empty house, it had been Amanda, her parents and her brother, older by one year, Justin. Justin Locke, with his clear blue eyes and smile that could light up a room. You always knew when you were with Justin. There was something about him—a glow, maybe—that made it impossible not to know.
His family thought it would be sad to see him off to college in two years, when he would be eighteen. But they thought that he’d always come back. They thought he’d accomplish everything, every dream that had ever come to him—maybe he would have. They never thought this would happen. They never thought that he’d leave them, so alone in that big empty house. At least, they never thought it would happen like this.

* * * *

“Courtney.” The music was rising again, the men positioned at the corners of the casket. I followed the deep color of the wood, as the men began to move the casket, Mr. Locke still in the front, on the left. I tried hard, so hard to think of Justin’s face. It was so familiar, a face I had seen every day for almost six years, yet I couldn’t remember.
All I could picture was him lying so still inside that box. That box that must have seemed so small, so different from that big house. That house that would be so empty without him.
“Courtney.” The music was at its apex, the notes flowing, flowing. It was soft, melancholic, but still it seemed so loud as it echoed all around. “Courtney.”
I looked to the side of me, at Amanda. The organ was beginning to fade, and as the doors swung shut behind her father and those three other men, I heard her whisper my name.
“Look.” She was pointing to the front of the church, at the pulpit facing the congregation. There, shuffling papers nervously, was my younger sister, Rainer.
With a shaking hand, she reached out and tapped the tiny microphone on the pulpit.
“H-hi,” she said, her lips close to the microphone. Slowly, people who had not yet noticed her turned to face the front of the church once again. “I’m…Rainer Whitaker.”
Rainer bit her bottom lip, struggling, I knew, with the words. Even when they were written down, she could never quite seem to be comfortable saying them.
“How many of you have ever wanted something? I mean, anything,” she asked, her eyes darting from the papers in front of her, to the people all around. People began raising hands, slowly though, as if admitting to something they shouldn’t have been doing. “Alright,” Rainer said, once it seemed as if everyone who was willing to contribute had a hand raised. Quickly, the hands went down.
“How many of you have ever wanted something for someone else?” she asked. A few hands went up, then a few more. Not many people seemed to understand what she was trying to say—maybe they didn’t want to. After twenty seconds or so, instead of dismissing the hands again, Rainer raised her own. “I want a lot of things, I mean, who doesn’t?”
A few “yeahs” and “mhms” echoed from the congregation. After a few seconds, though, it was silent.
“I know someone else who would want something, something not for himself, but for everyone else. For all of you,” Rainer continued, her hand still raised. No one else dared to lower their hand either. “Justin Locke was a special person. He touched all of our hearts, and if you don’t feel that way then I guess you’re heartless.”
Beside me, I could feel Amanda relax. She was looking up at Rainer, her eyes wide, like a little kid seeing magic tricks being done for the first time. Rainer then brought her hand back down, Amanda watching intently. The others followed her lead. Again, there was silence.
“Justin loved so many people, and I know that you all love him,” Rainer said, her voice ringing off the high cathedral ceilings. “He was so good to me, as a girlfriend. He was so good to everyone. None of us wanted this to happen, not to Justin. I didn’t know him well, not as well as many of you sitting here today, but I do know one thing, and I hope you do, too: Justin would never want this to hurt you.”
And with those words, my sister, fifteen years old, stepped down from the pulpit, papers clutched in her hand as cheers broke out, echoing all around.
I turned to look at Amanda again, and saw on her face the only assurance I needed to make sure she would be okay. As she clapped along with all those people—for my little sister, the girl who Justin had loved so much—she was smiling, her head tilted up towards the peaked ceiling.
I love you, I saw her mouth to the sky. Her expression was soft.
“He’ll wait for you,” I whispered, after a few seconds of simply watching her wistful face. She was almost unmoving, as if any sudden movement might scare his love away.
“I know,” Amanda replied, turning to look at me. “He always has.”
It’d be hard, harder than anything she’d ever had to go through before, but she would fight through. After all, that was what Justin would’ve wanted.

* * * *

I could imagine his blue eyes sparkling, lighting up everything and everyone in heaven. He’d be a star, the brightest in the sky.
Slowly, it came back to me. Finally, I could remember what he had been for so long, all that time before the heart attack had taken his life. I could feel it, his glow.
I knew he could hear Amanda. I knew he’d been listening, listening for the moment she needed him. And I knew exactly what he would say.
I love you, too, he’d whisper, smiling, always smiling. For everything you gave.

English Short Story.

Ok, so i haven't even read this over, so sorry for the following sucky story. :]

“Cancer”. The word rolled off the doctor’s tongue unsympathetically. A cold shiver ran down my spine. In that moment, time came to a halt. I felt as if I couldn’t breathe, as if I was falling, and would never stop.

“Mr. Sanders,” the doctor began again, “You have pancreatic cancer, which has spread to your kidneys.” A tear ran down my face, glistening in the bright light of the white room. My father, not surprisingly, remained strong.

“I am so very sorry Mr. Sanders; there is nothing we can do. We didn’t catch the cancer early enough.” The falling sensation increases as I start to feel dizzy.

“You have about 3 and a half months to live”. The falling stopped; I had slammed into the ground of the seemingly endless pit. Tears are streaming down my face, but I didn’t noticed. I couldn’t feel anything, my body was numb.

My father looked at the doctor with a straight face, no words escaping his relaxed mouth. After a few minutes of silence, my father asks, “So Doc, if there is nothing you can do, what can I do?” “Well,” replied the doctor, “The best we can do is recommend ways to make your home more comfortable, especially when your cancer worsens. We recommend you have a registered nurse stop by the house every so often to check on you.”

At this, my father stood, shook the doctor’s hand and said thank you. He looked at me, silent with tears streaming down my face. “Don’t worry Maddie, it will be alright” he said softly. He helped me out of the chair I was sitting in, whispering “It will be ok” in my ear. We slowly made it back to the car.

The half hour car ride home was quiet. I was thinking, and I suppose he was too. He has always been simple man, never saying more than he needed to. I wonder if that was what led to my parents’ divorce. My mother moved to Brooksville, while my father stayed in Oakdale. They live about 40 minutes away from each other, but my school is in between. I shuffle between my mother’s and father’s house every week, and alternate summers. It just so happened that this summer I was spending with my dad.

When we arrived home, we remained in the car, silent. After a while, he turned the car off and turned to me. “Maddie, we all have to… pass sometime.” he said. “Don’t worry, I will be ok.” I looked at him and said “Dad, you’re dying of cancer. Everything is not ok.” My dad looked at me straight in the eyes, giving me the look that let me know that he was about to say something important. “Look Maddie, we can be sad and cry about my cancer, or we can have the best three and a half months we can. I choose the second option, and I hope you do too.” I had to smile at this, at how positive a person can be after being told their dying of cancer. “I hope I do too.” I say. My dad and I got out of the car, and started to walk into the house. We talked for another two hours before we called my mom.

bbbb

“Dad, the nurse is here!” I shouted, as I opened the door to my dad’s house. “Hello Nancy, how are you?” I say, trying to sound as positive as possible. My dad was approaching the 3 and a half mark of his cancer. He had become much weaker, mostly sleeping in the hospital bed the nurse had set up. He was still happy though, always telling jokes and making me laugh.

“I’m doing well, but how is your dad?” Nancy replied. “Same as he was yesterday.” I answered “He’s still going strong.” At this, Nancy smiled, saying “Excellent” numerous times as she walked down into the hallway. My dad would never let me be in the room when the nurse was checking on him. He didn’t want me to worry about him, and I tried not to.

After about a half hour, Nancy walked out of the room. “Amazingly, he seems to be getting better. Good work Maddie.” she said as she grabbed her equipment. I’ll be back again in a couple of days, and remember call me if he gets worse.” I walked into his room and gave him a high five. “I passed again Maddie,” he said as he smiled.

After a week of getting better, his health started to slowly decline. He lost a lot of energy, and was sleeping a lot more. When I walked into his room, he looked at me, and said “Call your mother. You need someone else to take care of you.” “But Dad,” I started to protest, “I am not leaving you. Can I at least ask her to come here?” My dad looked at me doubtfully. “Irene would never do that.” “Well, I’m still asking” I replied. And to me and my father’s surprise, my mother agreed to come.

bbbb

I was woken by at 2 am by the sound of an ambulance pulling up to my house. I sprung out of bed and ran to my father’s room. My mom was there, helping my father get comfortable. “The nurse suggested he go stay in the hospital a couple days ago. Maddie, I’m sorry, but he’s getting worse.” I looked at my dad, who looked at me. For the first time, I saw true pain on his face. “Alright” I said, helping my mom pack for the hospital.

A few weeks after, my father died. He went peacefully, with my mother and I by his side. At his funeral, I delivered the eulogy.

“I remember the day when we learned he had cancer” I began. “He was remarkably strong and positive, and he remained that way until he passed.” I was silent for a moment, thinking about all the memories from the past months. “My father was given three and a half months to live. He made it to four months and twelve days, and I am proud of him.” I stepped down from the podium and turned to go back to my seat. Walking back to the church pew, I looked up, smiled, and said “four months and twelve days.”

BLahhh

Why:

I need to know why

you hate me

your never there

you despise me

you don't care

I need to know why

You said you would be here

but you were not

you are not

and you will never be

I need to know why

you said you cared

when all you wanted

was to see me cry

Im dying inside

or whatever is left of me

that you can't see

but you hurt so bad

thing i found on my computer... enjoy

invisible

not seen

there yet not

in between

speaking

no one hears

crying

can't see the tears

lost all memory

erased from mind

not there anymore

your blind

my flags at half mast

ive done all i can

i surrender

Um, i Was bored....

Random Poetry. It comes back to you when u get in school XD.

Nobody knows this is the night

Nobody sees the broken soul

thats left behind

her last night

say goodbye.

and when she's gone

they will finally realize

all the pain

she had kept inside

they shut their eyes

when she cried

say goodbye.

ni hao =]

hii. soooo, shopstie is currently working on a wonderful [terrible!] novel :)
shopstie wants to know what others think. so i'm "daring" to post a page or so...have fun!


Dellie and I were to reunite at my parents’ New England lake house four days after school let out. The asphalt in the driveway was smooth under the tires of my car as I pulled in, parking in the spot my parents always did when we used to spend the entire summer at the lake.
It had been years since my whole family stayed there together—years since our whole family had been together in the first place—but now, as I pulled my keys out of the ignition and slowly pushed open the car door, I could almost see my mother, her hair rustling in the breeze. I could almost smell the obnoxious mixture of my brothers’ colognes that seemed to follow them like a shadow. I could almost hear my father, trying to get our attention while reading a passage from a book that was published before the dawn of publishers.
It had been so long, so many years, since anyone except me had been to the lake, but still, I could remember all these things, so many memories, so clearly, it was almost as if things had gone back to how it should have been. Almost, but not quite.
I stepped out onto the hot tar, slipping out of my shoes despite the continental burning sensation I got from the bottom of my feet.
There was still no sign of Dellie, but that wasn’t unusual. Dellie had almost always been notoriously late. It had started when her mother left, really, and her father taught her that it’s okay to be late, as long as you arrived at some point. This advice was, of course, taken advantage of by Dellie, and explained how it had almost become a tradition that I arrive at the lake first every summer.
I had wandered a few more feet from my car and was inspecting a fairly new looking Adirondack chair that had somehow appeared, when I heard the smooth sound of tires pulling into the driveway. I looked up from the chair, pushing my curtain of blonde hair away and tucking it behind my ear. In the driver’s seat of the tiny silver car that had pulled in was a very beautiful girl with big sunglasses pushed up into her hair. Dellie.
I saw as she opened the car door, seeming to be in slow motion or in an advertisement, that she had changed a lot since the last time I’d seen her. The brown hair that had once reached her waist was dyed with blonde, cut just below her shoulders.
She approached me and the new Adirondack chair, a distant look on her face. “Lana!” she said, flipping her blonde bangs out of her face.
“Hi,” I replied quietly, waving and smiling.
“Your hair!” she exclaimed, taking up her role of breaking whatever ice was there. Silence wasn’t exactly part of her vocabulary, as speaking took about as much effort and thought as breathing for her. “It’s so long!”
I nodded, looking down at my feet. My role: play along with anything and everything Dellie says until I can think of something important to say.
“It looks great,” she continued, touching the ends of my hair at their new position half way down my back.
“Thanks.” I could feel my shyness creeping up on me, although I couldn’t understand why. I had known Dellie my whole life, so she was far from a stranger. I was all but used to her personality—polar opposite of mine.
Dellie had always been how she was, the definition of outgoing. I guess I didn’t know exactly who I was, always trying to be something, anything. Dellie was the one person I could be myself with, no matter how much I changed or stayed the same, no matter what ‘myself’ was. I knew I shouldn’t have been acting shy around her, because she accepted me no matter what. But still, I couldn’t quite hit the usual level of comfort I had around her.
“It’s been way too long since we’ve talked,” Dellie concluded, making a subtle move towards her car, where I saw she had popped her trunk open.
“Mhm,” I agreed, nodding. I followed her footsteps to her tiny silver car, and watched as she pulled out four good sized bags, one at a time. Once all four were on the asphalt, she lifted them a few inches off the ground together, testing their weight. Surprisingly, she didn’t seem to be struggling with the weight, instead lifting them as if they were weightless, like she had forgotten to pack and had decided to merely bring the suitcases for show.
I was bracing myself for the speed-talking, the rapid fire speech, everything I knew would naturally come to Dellie. She obviously wasn’t feeling as awkward as I was, although if she was it probably wouldn’t have shown. “What have you been up to? How’s it going? How’s work? How are Eric and Reilly? I still can’t believe how long it’s been!”
As I had expected, the speed talking had begun. Dellie was talking a mile a minute, now, and I could hardly keep track of where one question ended and the next began, never mind attempt to answer them. I didn’t make her stop though, not for a minute. The rush of words coming out of Dellie’s mouth was actually calming. It was nice to be sure that at least one thing hadn’t changed about her. I didn’t do well with change.
“Alana? Alana? Alana?”
I blinked, unsure of exactly what Dellie had been talking about at that point.
“Uh…Hmm…Wait…What? Oh! Sorry! What was it?”
Dellie smiled, unnerved that I hadn’t been paying attention. “How was your birthday? When did you get your car? Don’t you love having a license?”
This was expected, of course. Dellie could never ask one question at a time. I just hoped that I answered the questions appropriately, instead of replying “I’m fine,” to “What have you been up to?”
“It was good. I got the car from a family friend before I turned sixteen. Having a license is…Convenient,” I replied, pretty sure I answered all the questions, even in the right order. Then Dellie was back, talking a mile a minute about anything and everything that popped into her mind.
“It’s a Volvo, pretty much new…”
I was happy. Dellie was as she should be, and so was I. As she chattered, and we began walking towards the house to put our bags away, I let my mind wander, wondering why I had ever been anxious.

as i was talking to amanda rose....

i wrote this, trying to think of a status. here we go....:

for every broken dream,
for every shattered scream,
for every ended life,
for every sleepless night,
for every time you thought you'd go insane,
for every little bit of pain.
the problems will never again remain,
as we dance, kissing in the rain.

Another poem with a mirror

this is my first attempt at a non-rhyming , non- four line poem. its hard! sorry it probably stinks. I just put random lines together. here it is:

 she lost her self

doesn't know who she is 

A look in the mirror

reveals a face 

she does not own

what has she done?

what lies did she said?

why did she let it go this far? 

All those she has hurt

were the ones who cared the most

the unknown face 

now smiles at her

she says 

i want to go back

the face says

its to late now

you are me 

i am you

Silence

this is my third poem in a row. i finally got around to putting all my poems on her =)

The silent smile

you see in the hall

but nobody sees

she's about to fall

there's no one to catch her

no one even knows her name

some find this normal, some don't care 

but this is not just a game. 

not one can know

the pain she bears 

having not a friend

no one to care

One day she will stay in bed

That day she will decide

to let her dreams take over 

from reality she will hide. 

Hope

Such a simple little word 

yet we hold it so dear

the meaning however

isn't always clear

It means something different 

to me, to you

It could be anything

depends on your view

It could be the saving word

or the thing that gets you through

it could tell a story

or maybe its you clue. 

Yet it could be your haunting 

something holding you back

afraid of something going wrong 

it could show what you lack

Hope is something funny

something thats new 

it could be anything 

just depends on your view. 

The Cycle

Emo or Preppy 

there's no in between 

pick one, live one

your only 13

College life now 

its you day

get drunk or study hard 

choose now-your the prey

21's the age

until the bills pile up

start a new job

not that fun being all grown up

The future you dreamed

isn't so clear

baby on the way

good luck next year

the golden years

final destination

yet your alone 

in isolation

Life is difficult 

I wish i would have known 

we take it for granted

until its gone. 

The Secret Keeper

(I finally got down to posting! And happily it is not about death! But one of these days I need to write something happy >___> Its quite hard though....)

You do remember the saying,
We said it every night before bed,
It was our solemn promise,
Our darkest secret.

We promised to keep it till the day we died,
But I doubt that will happen,
Seeing as you’re the only one left,
I seemed to have faded away.

I became a dark shadow in your light,
I was the abomination you thought to hide,
Nothing was good enough for you,
But our solemn secret.

Though, I dare you to tell,
Show everyone what you’re really like,
Because I saw the monster through the veil,
And I always will.

That doesn’t matter anymore,
Because I refuse to live this lie,
I no longer hide the secret that was once ours,
But became mine.

I saw that night,
Twelve years ago,
We were so young,
But we knew.

I kept it because I hated you,
Yes you expected love,
However, it was nothing but anger,
And nothing to your fear.

Now I hold it in my hand,
While you go on living,
But I told you long ago,
I keep my secrets and you should keep yours.

The conjoined poetry of Amanda Rose & Sophia Faye(:

hiyaa. this is a combined poem, by Amanda Rose && Sophia Faye
[:!
we're the best poets everrr [XD] && combined we rule the world, every 5 feet at a time...
so here it is, the untitled poem by the shortest people around[: !

the pictures blur
while walls close me in
our rights are disconnected
asking: can i survive this pain?
happiness is in the air
yet it is out of my grasp
no matter how much i try
to reach that simple thing
i will always be close
but never all the way there
so all my life i will wait
as it floats just above my head
why do i care anymore?
is it true, do i care?
always there, never close
the hope of happiness
the happiness of hope.

OHMYGOD AMANDA!

[i feel like a loser i'm the only one who ever looks at this damn blog!]
OHMYGOD AMANDA I WROTE MY FIRST RHYMING POEM! i showed it to you today at the ii party!
i guess i'll post it. i'd rather not. i must go find it in my planner...
its like your poems, amanda. she dies in the end!
bleh we depressed people(: cept not really. haha otay here it is..../:

she walks alone along a shell-less beach
her thoughts are gone
she still can't speak
nothing happens
everything is still
there's not much time she has left to kill
she has ties in her hair
as it blows in the breeze
she has tears in her eyes that nobody sees
there's no one around
for her to cry to
there's no one on earth who knows wut is true
as she climbs up the height, it drives her insane
when she finally drops, she can let go of her pain.

while ms hobday was talking about a leader.

Save Me ->

waiting for it to be over.
anything, everything.
to step from the cold
that changes to overexherting warmth.
the uncertainty is weighting me down
like a thousand pounds
what to do, what to do,
in the time i have left to spend.
sit around, reflect a while?
until the time is over.
bordom will eventually penetrate the soul
-the soul i feel i do not posses anymore.
the ones i love will slip
through my longing fingertips.
my only knowlege being
i will never see anyone again.
it will consume everything,
down to my very soul.
for it already has.
but i will hold my ground,
why? a sane person may ask
reasons mean nothing. i know none.
it is all anticipation
for when the world weighs you down
its surprising to see what brings you back up.

Finding Whats Lost

ha i lost this poem cause i wrote it on the back of a school paper for yearbook. found it 

She's going through life

not making any sounds

thoughts racing 

her head pounds

several nights she waits

several nights she tries

to find her way out

of her web of lies

nobody came

nobody found 

the lost dying soul

alone on the ground

shes still waiting

waiting for you

will you go find her 

will you pull her through?

My Holocaust Poem

This is the poem that i read in class for the holocaust thing. It will win 2nd to last place, behind kyles  (JK JK) . She dies in the end, so its all good =D. Its called "Holocaust poem" <<>

They took us away

In the silence of night

The soldiers grabbed Momma

Papa started to fight

 

As the night turns to day

They put us on a train

My sister starts to cry

I hide all my pain

 

Momma and Papa are gone

My little sister too

Where they went

I wish I knew

 

They tell me to dig

Dig down all the way

Taking my last breath

I can only pray

No title yet, maybe "Alone and Unwanted"

She is born in the night

all alone and unwanted

she breathes her first breathe

without anyone watching. 

She gets to be older 

She lives on the street

Thinking of the parents

She will never meet

Frail with age

She cries her last cry

Looking up to God

She only asks 'Why'. 

She gave us the key

Only asked us to be smart

We rejected it kindly,

The key to her heart. 

inspired by the ballad of lady louise (ha ha shopstie)

Ghost of the sea

The rocks drew in the last bit of breath,
Waves crashed with the force of a ton,
The storm drew closer,
But there she stood along the sea.

She was young and beautiful,
Yet she hid behind a mask of regret,
Tears streaked her delicate face,
But there she stood along the sea.

Sadness lurked behind those sorrow filled eyes,
Everyone had left her at her own demise,
Her family, friends, even her husband to be,
But there she stood along the sea.

She cried out in anguish,
But no one came back,
One step forward and she could be free,
But there she stood along the sea.

Her body shimmered with a blinding light,
She did not belong here at this height,
She smiled happily for the first time in years,
Her body dropped with all of her tears.

But, now she stands there every day,
Waiting for her family that will never stay,
She waits for her life to piece together,
But forever more, there she stands along the sea.


Yeah.... I got a little bit bored and I am not feeling well right now.. So I wrote this... I hope its good..

shopstie's a horrible writer and amanda is forcing her to post

helloooooo. i'm a horrriiblleee writer but amanda is forcing me to postt a poem here bc i wouldn't post any other writing....so here's the simile poem i wrote for mr. gilroy.... lmfao. i never named it its just about winter...


Snowfall, light as feathers,
Drifts to the ground,
Envelopes land and sea in a blanket of white.

Flowers await springtime air,
As if waiting for the right time,
For the sun to call to them.

Frigid air burns,
Stepping into the freezer
That is life.

Free, a child to play along the frozen streets.
So aware of all things around,
A wise old man to sit and recall.

Warm breath to kiss the frigid breeze in the dead cold night.

Fire burns and crackles, as love warms the world the same.

Reflection (Poem)

Ok, so i wrote this when i was in 5th? grade. It was the first poem i ever wrote (without being forced by a teacher) i think. The funny thing was, i thought it was amazing and i could like win a contest with it. HA HA i was young and happy back in the good old days. But now i look back at it and say... HA HA u suck! So without further due... 

Mirror Mirror on the Wall

What do you show? Nothing At all

do you show the real me?

its a real mystery. 

maybe you show the outside illusion of me.

do i even dare

to say that i dont care?

Mirror Mirror on the wall; what do you call?

Judgement, thats all. 

**snap, snap, snap**

Hello and Maybe Goodbye

Ok, so all of us people like to write

Poems

Stories

Short Stories

medium length stories

novels

"novellas"

you get the point. 

so if you want to publish any of your writings, just post it (or if you aren't a member put in as a comment). Don't worry about being suckish. I mean look at the blogs name for once. You aren't expected to write anything good, so if you do mildly good, u will look amazing at writing. See the philosophy behind this? I hope you do. Ok so post/comment away. May the suckest writer win!!! 

GOOO!