When I Wake UpFirst will come silence,then maybe a sound or two.Then the noise rises.It escalates tounsurpassable shouting,singing, too, and thenMadness.
UnchartedThere is a placewhere stillness rules;a boundless realmof glistening jewels.Where anger sleepsand royalty keepsthe glass sky aligned.It is hiddenfrom people, all,to remain pureits sacred hall.But dreamers findits gates in mind.Open your eyes and see.Walk off the edgeof reality.Dive into the poolof serenity.Feel the coldof your past so bold,clearly presented before you.There is a placewhere all hearts meetas one, the same,all of them beat.This is wherethe poets fare,thinkers and artists alike.This is wherethe cowards ne'erhave the courage to hike.
Magicians of Feathery and Mousey ToysThe morning is coldand the windows are dark,but I am still awake.I walk through the house,not making a sound and thenCRASH!I hope no one saw me.I strut alongwith my head held high,repairing all of my pride.But there's something missingAnd I think I know what it is.Lights!I must find the magicians.They should be in this room.I call out to them.Silence.Perhaps they are in the other.I call again.Silence.I search and I call,I call and I search,yet still I hear nothingbut silence.I come acrossthe very last room,hoping they will be within.There's a crack in the door,so I push it as hard as I-THUMP!I hear a groan from the bed.Delighted in success,I jump up on the bed,only to be slid off its side.From the floor I call to themthen I lead them out the door.Magic!The room goes bright.Together we walkto the larger roomsand my toys come alive.They jump up and danceand tickle my stomachHISS!This toy is mine.The magicians talkamongst each otherand hustle
In MemoryIt is assumed that best friends forever actually last forever. Unfortunately, sometimes they don't. My best friend used to talk to me all the time. We talked for hours about things that didn't make sense. Then, out of nowhere, she ignored me like the black plague. It was as if the thick rope of friendship that I thought bound us together withered away. As if it became thin enough to be cut with children's safety scissors.Before that, my friend loved to doodle in her notebooks. On occasion, she would dedicate entire pages to her artwork. They were the most elaborate and detailed doodles I had ever seen. She had several original characters that she developed personalities for. Some were kind, while others were sadistic. They would go on all sorts of adventures. Once, they even made an appearance on my math test. Our teacher reprimanded her for it but it made us laugh.Another thing she loved to draw was scenery. Mountains, she said, were the easiest. The shading of them was simple and b