The car had rusty paint
It looked like it came from the 1901
There was about 50 dents in it
This car was a mess
All the windows were cracked or shattered
The seats had jagged rips in them
If you sat in the seats
I think you will fall through
It had no radio
It was a beat down car
Hadn’t been driven for years
It had no gears
The tires were flat
Looked like they got shot by a gun
If you go in the car
The riped open roof
Would fall on top of you
Who again?
What a messy room,
The floor was covered
With…
Clothes,
Toys,
Books,
and any other things
You can think of.
The walls where smeared
With…
Bugs,
Food,
Finger paints,
And glue all
Dripping,
Dripping to the floor.
The closets are filled to the top
With…
Old dirty shoes,
Shimmering plants,
Broken toys,
Crumpled pictures,
Shattered jewelry,
And things you can’t describe.
What a messy room I think
You should clean it.
Who are you?
Without warning
The sprinkles of liquid began to fall from the dark cloud
Moisture trickled off the leaves and splashed to the ground aloud
Soft and damp beneath my feet
The mist of the shower oh so sweet
Beautiful figure in the sky
Brightens one’s day, could make you cry
Plats soft and silky
Delicate weed that is so silky
Shinning through the foggy air
The suns return shinning everywhere
Without warning
By: tinkerbell
Acceptance
don’t deny it
don’t fake it
it’s real its there
it’s clicks, that aren’t fair
accept people for who they are
don’t judge on looks
don’t judge them without getting to know them
don’t laugh with spite,
don’t be filled with hatred with just one look
accept change
let new things into your life
don’t shoot things down before they have a chance
let them grow to what they can truly be,
accept the new kid
don’t ignore them or exclude them,
try and include them
so they can show their true selves
whether you choose to accept or deny
think of this before you react,
if you were the new kid
how would you want to be treated.
There was an air
about that house,
not one from a human
but like one
a neglected animal
may
give
off.
Weeds
poked their spindly heads
through cracks in the cement
and vines
tickled the eves.
Most of the windows
were cracked,
the result of
teenage boys
and
the wind
and
plants left untended.
The white paint peeled
to reveal
only rotted, wet wood
underneath;
the once-fancy shingles
in
decay,
leaving holes
in
the
roof.
A few trees shaded
that
house
that
was
not
a
home,
casting a gloom
over
a
place
that already shouted
out to passerby
a plead
for
help.
“Buy me!
Care for me!”
it yelled,
a visual voice
rather
than
a
heard
one.
But no one ever listens
to the silent voice
of a neglected,
overrun house
that desperately
needed an owner
and
was rapidly
losing
hope.
-By Opal Bologna