Megan22

“Hope is the thing with feathers / That perches in the soul, / And sings the tune without the words, / And never stops at all.”
- Emily Dickinson

Water would always run down the sides of my mouth after hastily drinking a cold cup of water, exhausted from all the running. We would always makes sure no nieghbors door was missed, in excitement they would join us for a game of kick the can.

Thomas Reed doesnt think very highly of himself, in fact if you asked him about his personality, or his favorite things to do, his life is so bleak he couldn't even respond with a proper answer.

She stood on her tippy toes and grasped onto the windowsill with the chipping lead paint. 

My brain paints the inside of my eyelids
Once i've slept for long enough
dramatic fiction stories 
mix with reality 
Leaving me in unrealistic plots,
Inspired by my daydreams,
They now are my short-term actuality 

It started in fifth grade when little Elizabeth realized life isn't perfect. Like when the teachers would always say “I need some strong boys to stack these chairs” or when the boys were a little too cocky at boys vs girls dodgeball.