Dancing

On light feet
I twirl and spin
And dance to the beat
Carefree as a bird, free of sin

My hair flows down my back
Dark as night and just as free
It swirls behind me
I'm radient, thats the key

A tap on the shoulder
And a firm arm on my waist
I turn around and see him
My hero, my Tim

The lights seem to dim
His face comes toward mine
My heart beats fast, like the wings of a bee
And suddenly the spotlights on me

He drops me off on my front porch
The light flooding the deck
And I stand there
Its true, he's rare

Darkness

People live and People die
People curse and people lie
Everyone knows,
and no-one cares
The depression it holds me
In the claws of a bear

People live and people die
People curse and people lie
The cold blanket that holds me
will never turn warm
The darkness that grips me
is evermore

People live and people die
People curse and people lie
I struggle, twist, and turn
I'm frantic to see, and to learn
I want the warmth, I want the light
But I'm bound and gagged, and no-one see's my plight

People live and people die
People curse and people lie
Everyone knows,
and no-one cares
I'm stuck all alone
I don't know how I can bear

People live and people die
People curse and people lie

Freewrite # 7

You think you know me?

TO which of me have you been introduced?

The happy and gay?

The immature and childlike?

The 'live for the moment and screw the consequenses'?

There is so many different sides to me.

The part of me people haven't seen,

Is the depressed and lonley

I put on masks,

Hide what I really feel.

I cower behind an outgoing person with a big personality

If I put on a good ennough act, will people like me?

If I take the burden I unconsciously bear, will people care?

If I hide the lonlieness, Will I feel less lonley?

Questions, questions, questions, but no answers.

To which have you been introduced?

The happy and gay?

Ok........

Freewrite #4

Does he not see the pain clearly written on my face?

Can he see the tears flooding down my flushed cheeks?

Does he even care?

He's screaming and I'm screaming back.

Won't he ever realize how much this hurts?

Won't he ever see what I have to say?

Why doesn't he just knock me out?

When I come to,

Maybe things will have cooled down.

Maybe the fight will be forgotten.

Mabe he'll love me.

Freewrite #4

Clouds darkened the sky with their velvety softness, and created a blanket blocking the earth from the sky that shined above. The wind would come up howling and die down whistling. The rain spattered on the roof, driibbled down the shingles and the dropped to the ground with a splish.
Over and over, I heard these sounds, saw these sights, all echoing through my head. All the sights popping in and out of conscious thought. The wind picks up speed, the rain pounds to the ground. The image of a small nine-year-old girl pops into my head. I start to scream, a scream of terror and fright. Blood pouding in my head, panic paralyzing me. The scream is cut short as my lungs collapse. The comppassion I felt knew no bounds, and would go to anything to achieve its goal. I wanted her, wanted her in my arms. wanted to tuck her to bed, wanted everything I couldn't have and hating it because I couldn't. I started to sob, she's never coming back, she's never going to live.I had lost her and would never find her. My baby, gone.
I lost you during that horrible storm, only to fing you cold and stiff under the hay in an attempt to keep warm. I had run, and cried when I could not find you, almost killing myself in an attempt to save you. It didn't matter, my child. I'm still breathing, while your bones are rotting in the ground.
Some say I should leave this place, to find a place without the memories. I will always refuse, my darling. I will be near to you till the day I die, and then we'll be together again, nothing will seperate us. I pray everyday for that day to come soon.

I was fifteen.


This is a tale about a boy who cme across an accident. He was ready to steal this motorcycle. He thought of how much fun he would have and how good he would look on top of this vehicle. He backtracks and finding the owner gives him his motorcycle. The owner looks at the bike fondly and tell the boy hes a good guy. The boy feels pretty guilty because he wasn't thinking of giving the motorcycle back, it just happened.