Sta.sh
...Ohh Sweden.
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Nepeta present by ~itsmissblondi2u
We were all once childrenI'm not as flat as you see meWe were all once children by ~itsmissblondi2u
And I am not a plaything.
I'm not the words that you type in my likeness
Thus, I hope you dread our meeting
Because
I was a child once
A babe in my mother's arms
But you don't seem to mind my past
And focus more on worldly charms
I'm just as evil as you make me
So make me kind and maybe
I'll spare you when the time comes
And not forget that you were once a baby
A prose, and metaphor: Ode to the innocents Decay appears on the hides and minds of the derelict and overworked sheep dogs, scorn and crosshairs upon the poor lamb who is unwittingly different from the rest of the flock. The Shepherd growing fat and her purse growing fatter on the products sacrificed by the whole herd. Sepulchered are creativity and deviation from the beaten path. And the wisest of the livestock are wisest at a detriment, marinating in a puddle of their own trepidation trapped in the eddying tide of mediocrity, all too aware of the world turning without them.A prose, and metaphor: Ode to the innocents by ~itsmissblondi2u
contest submission The heat, predictably, came in waves. It tore at the air conditioning, rendering the entire exercise of turning it on moot. Jordan Fletcher fanned himself with a week old newspaper as his ancient computer chugged along. The dinosaur was reliable, but slow. Frustratingly slow. The heat was due to his current position in the United States, and the current position of the planet on its axis. Arizona summers, hot enough to fry an egg on the pavement, and hot enough to send Satan packing. But Fletcher was hardy enough to survive them, like some sort of invasive plant that grows back every time you pull it out. He lived alone, in what he likecontest submission by ~itsmissblondi2u
