[Darksheare]

DEAD THREAD!!!
RUN FER YER LIVES!!
FURNITURE STAMPEDE!!!
*gets run down by an ottoman*

[Darkchylde]

*riding wild ottoman*
I can't STOP this thing!
*freezer attempts to ascend the stairs*

[Darkchylde]

A poem by a friend. She doesn't think she has
much talent, but I encouraged her to stick with
it anyway as poetic talent gets better with time.
I also offered her the opportunity to look around
here, to see what she thought. As you can see by
the poem below, she writes the free flowing type.

oh to the days when we were young
without a care in the world or a time to move on.
it seemed that we had all the time we needed.
it seemed that things could rarely get better
oh to those days which are long gone
now we say goodbye to our times of fun and games
while saying good day to times of work and pay.
no more do we dream of princes and dragons
or of mighty rescuers
no more do we look at things with the eyes of a child
it is all gone, done, and over with
as we grow we forget our childish times of happiness
of chasing bugs and jumping into leaves
of heroes and magic
of what we wanted to be.