Once again, I'm sorry for the neglect.


CrowThat night the world ended. Time crashed together. Sleeping, waking, living, death; it all seemed the same to me now. The only difference was that waking and living was painful, so painful. I want to sleep, drift into my dreams. Drift away from life, blur the time together, faster, faster; escape the world Im in. Dont let in the light, dont live in life. Stay in dreams, stay in the dark, where its safe. Where I can still see you and be with you. I miss you, you know. I loved you, you know. I cant find you, where did you go? Only in my dreams do I see your face. All other faces are blurs. I dont want to seeCrow


One More ChanceThe girl pulled away from the boy. It was sunny out, bright, but with that hard light the sun sometimes casts. The trees swayed in the wind, a few leaves falling to sprinkle the ground with their dying, bright colors. The air was warm, slowly turning crisp and cold with the coming season. Autumn. The girl checked her watch. 11:57 am. Maybe if I left early this time She sighed. Hey, Jared, Im sorry, but I have to go. Maybe we can meet up later? The boy, Jared, smiled. Hey, its no problem. I know you have, what was it? Housework to do, right? Yeah,One More Chance


Diamond RainsOutside it was cold. Smoky clouds moved callously in front of the hard-faced moon, dropping icy crystals of liquid upon the shivering earth below. Some of these crystals fell upon the stone tiled roof of a house, oriental in style and surrounding by blossoming cherry trees and shimmering koi ponds. The rain streamed through the ruts on the roof and fell into oblivion lit up like spirits with an inner glow provided by the downcast moon. Inside, it was warm. A fire crackled hungrily in a recently swept stone fireplace, and although it was dimming from starvation, it still provided a sufficient amount of heat. The swaying flames alsoDiamond Rains


A Little Bird Told MeIt was an early dawn in July, with the sun just above the hills and breaking through the treetops to fall scattered on the grass and dirt paths, when a painter of rugged appearance set his easel upon a flat of ground. He wore patched black pants and a white dress shirt underneath a worn vest. Resting upon a straight nose were half circle spectacles from which bright green eyes peered. He had short brown hair and a five oclock shadow, which he had neglected for a few days. His view stretched out across a field where hundreds of lupines ranging from deep purples to royal blues grew. His steady fingers slowly unscrewed his oil paints, andA Little Bird Told Me
Imma watch you now.
as creepy as that sounds.
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Add me again, if you want. Thanks!
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[link]
^ m y s p a c e. c o m - a l l i e s o f t h e p a c k
Speaking For The Ones Who Have No Voice.
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"How does one become a butterfly?" she asked pensively.
"You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar." -Trina Paulus
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Egoism is the very essence of a noble soul.
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"How does one become a butterfly?" she asked pensively.
"You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar." -Trina Paulus
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