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Literature
Face of a Killer, Kony
I can't believe it's been happening in a country
On the same continent as me;
How had I been living, so oblivious
To Kony's horrific child soldier army.
I'm appalled, to be honest - shocked to my core
For 30 years the world has been blind.
Harsh, lifeless, soul-less black eyes
The unsmiling face staring back at me.
A scraggly beard, a frown on his face
This is the face of a killer, Kony.
Where did he leave to from Uganda, who knows
He is the one person we have to find.
Enslaving young girls at the youngest age possible,
Ordered to fulfil strange, older men's passion;
Living in a crowded place, little food and water
Kony finds t
Literature
The Clock of A Life
tick tick tick
A new mother looks down at her new born baby girl wrapped in a soft blanket and smiles warmly.
tick tick tick
A little girl, no older than 1, pulls the horrid pink ribbon her mother had placed in her hair out with satisfaction.
tick tick tick
A little girl, no older than 2 and a half, hates the dress her mother made her wear to play in, All my friends will laugh at me She thought sadly as she ran off to find the group of boys.
tick tick tick
A little girl, no older than 4, is told by her mother that she can no longer get her clothes in the boys section of the store for it was time for her to start acting more like th
Literature
From the Depths of Insanity
I knew you once, when you were a tortured little girl, kicking and screaming at whomever came near. When you scratched and clawed and bit at your own skin like a possessed thing. I was there on those days you tried to throw yourself down flights of stairs, through windows and under cars. And every single time you took a hit off that bowl, a drag on a cigarette, or injected who-knows-what into your veins. I was the laughing in your ear when you spent hours sobbing in your mother's arms, then turned on her as well. When you were pegged as an unstable thing and thrown aside like the rag-doll you were. I was the one scratching at your brain as yo
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i do not approve of this kind of pursuit. even though i am guilty of it. perfection is imperfection, yet how can you define them both like this? it muddles everyone, i imagine. what do you think? i'd love to hear your outlook on this...
it's almost midnight, i have STAR tests next morning, and since i thought i should post smth i finalized this idea i've had and tada~
*cough*. so i went for the old western bounty poster approach. they're cool.
~enjoy.
it's almost midnight, i have STAR tests next morning, and since i thought i should post smth i finalized this idea i've had and tada~
*cough*. so i went for the old western bounty poster approach. they're cool.
~enjoy.
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Sry, you can't have me