Muses must do what they are here to do creatively and courageously or they will get cranky branches????
Nola Campbell
The trees were full of branches and they were full of leaves, Clara loved the color of the branches the way they collided with each other making beautiful trees…
iara
I dont know what this is. oH wait! it’s on tree. This word makes me think of Hagrig in Harry Potter for no reason. Or a forrest. Hmm. Branches are probably very har
Huff
The branches cracked and broke underneath my feet, sending me lurching down a few inches before I grabbed another. “Help! Help, somone!” I holllared. I couldn’t hold on, I didn’t know how to get down, but I couldn’t possibly go higher. I don’t even know why I started climbing this damn tree!
A
I’m trying to branch out, you know – to go beyond what I’ve looked like before. I’m trying to recapture that little bit of me that you thought was so awe-inspiring, so… Awful. I guess. I’m trying to be more like you were when we first met, instead of the way you are now that we don’t know each other anymore. I’m trying to be a lot of different people, crammed into one nanosecond, and this body that doesn’t support over-achievement. But I’m trying, and that’s branching out, so isn’t it enough for now?
These are the only thing I could hold on to. Branches. To keep me from falling to my death. To keep me fro falling to my end.
I look down and gulp. If I fall, I;m surely to be in pieces,
The branch creaks along with me. Is this my end? Funny how one day I couldn’t pay attention to the thing that’s now holding my life.
The sunlight filtered through the branches, lighting up the stone-covered walkway under us in seemingly random patterns. I tried to avoid stepping on these sunlight-blotches, thinking of that old nursery rhyme on stepping on a crack, you break your mother’s back. This made me feel childish.
Muses must do what they are here to do creatively and courageously or they will get cranky branches????
The trees were full of branches and they were full of leaves, Clara loved the color of the branches the way they collided with each other making beautiful trees…
I dont know what this is. oH wait! it’s on tree. This word makes me think of Hagrig in Harry Potter for no reason. Or a forrest. Hmm. Branches are probably very har
The branches cracked and broke underneath my feet, sending me lurching down a few inches before I grabbed another. “Help! Help, somone!” I holllared. I couldn’t hold on, I didn’t know how to get down, but I couldn’t possibly go higher. I don’t even know why I started climbing this damn tree!
I’m trying to branch out, you know – to go beyond what I’ve looked like before. I’m trying to recapture that little bit of me that you thought was so awe-inspiring, so… Awful. I guess. I’m trying to be more like you were when we first met, instead of the way you are now that we don’t know each other anymore. I’m trying to be a lot of different people, crammed into one nanosecond, and this body that doesn’t support over-achievement. But I’m trying, and that’s branching out, so isn’t it enough for now?
These are the only thing I could hold on to. Branches. To keep me from falling to my death. To keep me fro falling to my end.
I look down and gulp. If I fall, I;m surely to be in pieces,
The branch creaks along with me. Is this my end? Funny how one day I couldn’t pay attention to the thing that’s now holding my life.
the tree branches into one another
The sunlight filtered through the branches, lighting up the stone-covered walkway under us in seemingly random patterns. I tried to avoid stepping on these sunlight-blotches, thinking of that old nursery rhyme on stepping on a crack, you break your mother’s back. This made me feel childish.