| User | Cinnarry |
| Topic | The Rage |
| Message | She calmly sits with hands folded
across her pressed dress of apple green, that compliments her always-moving eyes, poised and demure legs crossed, studying pink-chipped nail polish. She bites her lower lip softly squirming in the padded chair where she was asked to wait-- looking around the fancy office, laden walls of various diploma’s screaming--expertise. She’d sat in this familiar chair many times before, awaiting answers to questions she couldn’t ask. Fidgety, she bites her lip slightly harder. He walks in the office and takes his place upon his throne of soft, supple leather, spreading out papers and charts His head is down-- She stares, willing him to raise his head, to look at her. He closes his various documents and without looking at her he says in her language, "I’m sorry, there’s nothing else we can do, you’ll never hear sound." She bites down hard on her lip of no color, warm and salty her mouth fills and overflows onto the perfectly pressed apple green dress, fingers digging into the chair until pink-chipped nails break to the quick. She slips to the floor on her knees pulling at her perfectly coifed curls as red rivers drool onto the expensive carpet, eyes overflowing with salt of a different color. Gothic black streaks trickle down her face from eyes so carefully made up for this day-- She rips and flails, tears and pulls smashes, clashes, crashes, hates, despises, abhors mouth opened in a silent wide O-- She picks herself up from the ruined fancy carpet, smoothing her apple green dress with bloody fingers, wipes her face with the back of her hand, mixing black and red together. She walks out the door down the long corridor people clearing her path, she leaves it in the pool on the carpet. The Rage. |
|| Replies ||
| User | Logic | 2006-07-06 | |
| Subject | untitled |
| Message | Boring. |
| User | WritingPrincess | 2006-02-10 | |
| Subject | how? |
| Message | Hey Cinnarry how do you do that? It takes me forever to write my poetry. <truth be told i’m only 12> Here, take a sample of mine made last year:
Frolicking in a stream Playing as a team Splashing each other Climbing on Brother Sun shining bright Reflecting off water Hurting my sight Swim like an otter Belly brushes bottom Hands tickle feet Kick out with my legs Brother is beat |
| User | Sasha Lynn | 2006-02-10 | |
| Subject | untitled |
| Message | WOW - this is powerful stuff. Post it formally and i promise i’ll comment! it belongs on your page to your credit so just put in on there!
SASHA LYNN |