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Literature Text
My virtues and my face,
My faults, my twisted grace,
Our souls or our race,
Our sins, our special place,
Are not to be accepted, or to hide,
Are not to be approved, or to deride,
But are our drawing breadths, our shadows beside,
Neither curse nor blessing, nothing but conflicts,
Our...my eternal conflicts, grappling inside.
My faults, my twisted grace,
Our souls or our race,
Our sins, our special place,
Are not to be accepted, or to hide,
Are not to be approved, or to deride,
But are our drawing breadths, our shadows beside,
Neither curse nor blessing, nothing but conflicts,
Our...my eternal conflicts, grappling inside.
Literature
Haunted part 1
''This is such a pretty little house!'' Sarah proclaimed as she followed her sister inside. The front yard was overgrown and needed much work, ivy growing up the sides of the house and overgrown grass made it hard to walk trough. But the inside of the house was very modern with white walls and a wooden floor. The living room and kitchen were connected by a small hallway that also led to the toilet. Next to the front door was a door leading to the stairs to the basement and next to that door were the stairs leading to the first floor. The living room still full of boxes with only the couch and dining table in it's place.
Sarah's sister was so
Literature
Underworld Academy Chapter 18
“More than half of that isn’t our fault. We ran into…obstacles. Stacy was hexed, for starters. That ‘reliquary’ that Durwood gave her had a witch’s finger, raven feathers, and some blue sand that Flint and me don’t recognize.” Raze’s voice woke her, but she didn’t open her eyes. She wanted to hear the conversation.
“It’s ‘and I’, honestly.” Archie clicked his tongue disapprovingly and continued, “I assume the sand would be from Horomancy. Specifically, one of his hourglasses, meant to induce sleep o
Literature
for Mids
your photos told stories
of the adventures you've
had - oh the places you
went!
your poems, more like
rants, had your voice
boom inside my mind,
echoing.
soon after you deleted your account,
I swore I would write to you...
but I never did, not as often as
I would have liked to, anyway.
next time I go out,
I'll take pictures
of flowers and 'scapes,
just for you, my friend.
next time I write a
poem, I will remember
how your words always
were full of volume.
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