creative writing

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Day 1: The half-eaten PB&J oozing jelly on her nightstand intrigued me, but the smell of unwashed socks and sweaty yoga pants kept
Bailey George, O how I miss you: Your shiny black coat with the crest of white on the center of your chest, Your tiny ears that never seemed to fit your 95 lb frame,
It's been long,  Struggling, Living life this way,  No longer functioning.   Sporadic moments of clarity, Showing, That life is not, Dsyfunctioning.  
The day I walked in this class, My heart was so scared, But your welcoming smile, Is what got me prepared, For all of the love,
In a world where you cannot show your feelings, surrounded by only white walls and a ceiling.   Pencil to paper, words spilled on the pages,
i should probably  thank you.  when you left,  i had found myself. in pieces.  when you had  gone, not just with the flat screens & fine  china, but with the 
Welcome to the Mirrored Place Where the clocks turn counter-clockwise Where we read and write, From right to left, Where normal is done in backwards ways.
Laura Weidemann November 30th 2017 Prompt-Write a letter as your future self to yourself now.  To Younger self in 2017,
It’s not what wakes me up in the morning it’s what keeps me up at night. Because I wake up and my first words are “I’m going to take a nap later.” Then I get home.
Theres something for all of us on the other side Something special, decieve us and we come to find That all the evils that we've known correspond with everthing we've ever wanted; thats no suprise
What potter molded your clay? You stand so tall and mighty. Your roots run deep, and your colors change as the seasons do. You battle storms. No matter how much you sway, you always stay.
People draw with silver.  It comes out red. Magic? People walk with gravity. They end up weightless. Magic? People eat a day The food disappears the same day.  Magic?
My life has it's ups. And downs. And it's starting to turn around.  
My life has it's ups. And downs. And it's starting to turn around.  
I look at those with simpler minds
This is how I live now: Wilted lettuce and second-hand shoes. Photos of luxury through flea market frames; Last year's fine china, ringed with watered-down booze.   Don't talk to me of "adulthood."
You quivered at the sound of rainas it seduced you into a wickedpleasure of placidity. I’ll never beable to comprehend how magnificentlybeautiful you looked as your taintedgreen eyes were fixated on the ripples
Taking a deep breathe, the time has come. The crowd is waiting, Your heart is pounding. The sound of your shoes clicking against the floor as you make your way to center stage.
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