Chapter 3as if you couldn't be more perfect. as if you couldn't hold my heart any higher - not that i would have reached to grab it; it was yours from day one. day one.. 3 years ago. (a.n. 3 years.. chapter 3.. :D ) of course, how should i have known it was you, shorter than me, who could reach higher - who could manage to hold something of yours higher than anything else. it was not that you loved it at that time, and i had not even realized i had given it to you. it had just slipped out of my pocket, and landed in your perfectly outstretched arms. as beautiful as it was, it was cliched in the fact that it was the same image from the cover of twilighChapter 3
Red vs. BlueRED burning flame: bright eyes shine with evil; it's heartless valor sickens those who cannot stop staring into it's faithless sheild.Red vs. Blue
BLUE freezing ice: the only antidote; it's cold soul embraces the RED burning flame from which is in return it's only antidote.
RED human heart: ignorentally loves to it's almost full capacity; willing to break for those who will not break it. BLUE inhumane heart: the complete opposite; unwillingly loves the RED human heart for reasons un-understood to itself.
RED blushing sun: too hot for it's own decency; brightly destructive, yet holds power it wishes not to use unless
ENGLISH PROJECT -antiques-THIS ANTIQUE PIANO.ENGLISH PROJECT -antiques-
Taste The murky dust. The tears of sorrow. The salty guilt in your mouth. Taste. The once happiness of tis grand piano, This antique piano, And the story it offers to tell; Of years unknown to you or I. Or heartache and glory. Of pride lost in oblivion. Of the thing it wants more than anything. Of pride.
See
The cool, hard pedals that have lost their golden shine. The ever-constannt ebony tinted wood. The eggshell keys. See How each square inch Of this antique piano Makes a face at yo
ENGLISH PROJECT -extra credit-A poem based on a painting: Mademoiselle Dihau at the Piano - Henri Toulouse-LautrecENGLISH PROJECT -extra credit-
Mademoiselle Dihau sits at the piano. Her stern face is strected back By the strong pins holding up her hair. Her dark eyes fervently read the Small black dots on the parchment in front of her face That are a second language to her dark eyes.
The candle ablaze sits quietly on the piano, Humming along with the solemn tune. It cries tears of hot, steaming wax. It sits in silence, nothing to say, Nothing to do, but listen; Listen as the notes flow from the
Soft por
The PianistIn a cluttered side street A deaf, old pianist Listens to his music Through his fingers, Which although gnarled and knobbly As the rest of his body Are charged with youth. His clothing is thread and bare, His piano has seen better days But such a sweet melancholy That touches the hearts Of those who pass him by Makes them stop, Makes them listen for a while.The Pianist
The sedate, tinkling notes Are overriding in their gentle way For a few moments the world pauses to listen The sun comes out of the cloudy grey A mother brings her child to t
maybe tommorowTommorow I'll end this acheing sorrow , But for now I'll sink a bit lower , To show her just what it is thats made me tick , Those thoughts of ending it before i'm deathly sick .maybe tommorow
can you ever shake the inevitable break down , Or do you see this frown , And shrug it off , As good enough .
Tommorow will end his sorrow , Tomorow may never come for some . Self sabatouge is my favorite venture . These thoughts I'm done letting you enter . Your smile that never fades , Your eyes I have to ask for , Forever ended a couple seconds ago ,
That NightThat night was amazing. I didnt think high school could be so exciting, so exhilerating. Just like the movies say, it was a night that ill remember for the rest of my life. WIth the lights, and music, and silly rules like - you cant wear your shoes in the gym. That night was incredibla, dancing even though you didnt know the song, and even though you didnt know some peopl you werent afreaid to dance rght by them, or even with them. If you did know them it was even better. You get home, out of breath anfd thirsty, your feet hurt and you feeling like passing out, but thats part of the expierence. Oh...the wonders of igh school and a fist homecoThat Night
End Of the WorldI was told by different people that the orange color of the sky was much better then the old blue one. I've heard it described as beautiful, like the color of a sunset, and others say that it's disgusting, a color representing us screwing up do bad and all of this happened to us. We don't know who started it but something happened to the water, the few of us living are either extremely smart or extremely dumb - or we're just flat out crazy - but either way we're alive and slowly trying to patch our world back together piece by piece until it looks slightly presentable. The truth is, none of us are lucky to be alive, we're idiots foEnd Of the World
Journal Entry:
Shame
not good.
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