It’s a thankless job.
The coffee pot usually wakes her every morning like clockwork—four-thirty a.m. Some days she’d like to sleep in until five but it’s a luxury that comes with a price. Because if she did get in that extra half-hour, she’d miss saying goodbye to her husband, and have to hurry over the paper and breakfast. So she would rather not.
Notes:
This has been very much revised compared to my first draft. If you haven't read my first draft, don't; at least not until you've read this one. I am leaving it on apricotpie only for history's sake.
Thank you Anna for your comment, it has helped me improve this story a great deal. I have hopefully gotten rid of my major problems and added a few characters. (Well, I had them planned before, they just didn't appear until a latter chapter)
There he is sitting all alone,
Desolate, sad, and Depressed,
He is a veteran and now he is home,
But the world doesn't seem to notice.
There's a frail, poor kid in Africa,
Someone gave him a gun and told him to fight,
So to his Mother he says "goodbye, I'll never see you again"
But the world doesn't seem to notice.
There's a beautiful, rich teenager,
Who sits alone on the porch swing,
Her parents, unavailable, are making her die inside,
But the world doesn't seem to notice.
The following is a true story. I am writing this mere minutes after it happened. I am a musician. I do most, if not all of my work on a computer. I keep a lot of information and samples and other important things on a thumb drive. The thumb drive is an HP, model FD USB drive. I've customized it by gluing a broken Shift key to the front. Yesterday I went to the visitation for my great-grandmother's funeral. I had the thumb drive in my pocket then.
Pretty, amazing, awesome
People have got to stop complimenting me
I’m not like those heroines who have a lot of gumption
If I am, why am I the only one who can’t see?
I have come to accept the simple truth
That I’m plain, never good enough, a horrible person
Just a lonely, untalented youth
As I grow, the pain only worsens
“Such a disappointment”, he said
Is this the cold, harsh reality?
Have I been fooling myself because I was afraid?
Will no one ever learn to love me?
I would love any comments! Advice is also very welcome!
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Scarred
When you are cut
Does it scar?
When you bleed
Does it stain?
When I am broken
It leaves marks
When I am pushed
I always bruise
Do not hurt me
It won’t leave
You might move on
My marks stay
If all you believe is
Forgive, forget
You don’t look down
Don’t see the scars
We all are covered
In many marks
They show your life
Your survival
*A/N* I've been working on this for a bit and am actually fairly proud :). Please give me feedback!!! You people are too nice on here <3
P.S. Check it out! It's a whole four pages long. So much pride.
68-Revolve
o.o.c. this is what resulted of a conversation with Leinad Romethe. while reading, keep in mind that this is based off of a forum gaming ideal. any reference to 'gods' is fictional with the intent of being humorous. The five deities of Arpag sat at the Great Table. They were about to set forth a new world. The god Kenline spoke: "Friends, we do here set about a new world. We have decided to take turns creating species and tribes. "As it was I who initiated this, it shall be I who do create first character.