I know this one girl,
an lonely girl.
She use to have really long black hair,
but cut it one day to a few inches past shoulders.
She wanted to be an writer,
but she so much doubts,
so much she would just stare at the paper,
with nothing written out.
She stare out her little window,
dreaming of an day,
when she can play.
She doesn't do her work,
because she feels so alone.
Her friends weren't really there.
So the pain came too fast for her to handle.
Then she met theses people,
who were just like her.
She grew less and less away from the window,
and online to speak with her friends.
This little girl,
was no longer an little girl.
She grew into an woman,
with her friends as her light.
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Comments
your not alone anymore and neither are we
I don't wanna spoil the moment by pointing out grammatical stuffs.
--
"So,what you're saying is that you're not 'angry' mad, but you're 'Eating paint chips with my imaginary friend named Hobart who doesn't like acrylics because he thinks they taste too fruity' mad..." —~CalamityKangaroo
--
You half-heartedly put down on papers
Is just a desperately put together,
An empty story of pretty words.
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