lobaa
His weathered face retained his age, his wisdom. The way he noted all of the exits when walking into a room was carefully acknowledged. It wouldn't be a surprise if he transformed into an oriental creature.
We were created together but born apart. The bond I'm supposed to have is something I'll never experience. The loneliness I feel isn't because of the person who isn't, it's because I want more than I have.
From her mother's vase to her happiness, everything was in pieces. She could never hold on to anything but not grasp too tightly.
The only thing she could do to help was not make anything worse. She couldn't burden them with an average grade or a less then spotless record. They've dealt with enough pain, she shouldn't be anything.
As she turned the pages, she slowly began to realize how fake they were. Her friend's diary spoke of a man with the hair of bronze. Her friend's fictional fantasies were as real as their friendship.
Her mind would always race over the littlest things. It wouldn't matter where she was, even if she was in her own personal paradise, she could never forget her mistakes.
Her hands shook as she read the words that appeared on her screen. It was all a lie? He wasn't anything anymore but then again, he never was.
The books flew in every direction as she slammed into the dirt, the pedals of her bike still spinning. Some passerby laughed at her but even if he gave a look of sympathy, her math homework would never be the same.
We are all pawns in some twisted game. Only pieces used for the amusement of others and for advancement but sometimes traded in for something greater, essentially becoming another's captive.