Kataoreos

Many people out there treat them badly. Many people viciously murdering them. It's a waste, you know, 'Cause they love you no matter what… No matter what you wear, No matter the amount of money in your pocket, No matter how beautiful you are, No matter if you have any neurological disorders, You could be the poorest and most hopeless person in the world and they will still love you. These beings are animals, God's gift to this selfish, messed up world. You know about those poor puppies thrown in dumpsters? Abused by those ignorant, sick and twisted people that don't have a word to describe how awful they are! (You know who y

Love It isn't the size of her breasts Nor is it the way you dress Love isn't your wealth Or popularity Love isn't the jerk Love isn't sex Love is patient Love is kind Love is when you'll be there for him Love is when you'll stay by his side Love is when you'll spend eternity with him Love is when you'll die for him Love is to love

Prologue I ran passed her and stared at the backyard. I could have been there to save you. I thought. I could have scared them off. You could still be around. But there are no "I could haves." Because he's gone and there's nothing I can do to change it. I stood in front of my rusty gate, staring at my battered tennis shoes. Usually I wouldn't hesitate to open the gate, but today was different. The living room, a black TV screen, made no sound. My eyes, as blind as a bat, could not make out the furniture. The air, ensnaring me in an icy grip, made me shiver. Then a voice, barely audible to hear, broke the silence. "I'll check the corp

Where I'm From I am from piggyback rides And the fluffy stuffed animals that covered my bedroom floor. I am from the messy sandcastles and slippery slides at Mason Park, Where I jumped from rock to rock. I'm from that distasteful lake odor, Where I tossed small pieces of bread into the water for the birds to eat. I'm from the young, soft tabby cat That once sat in my warm lap. I am from the artistic hands, That were passed down to me from my Great Grandpa Frank. I'm from the completed books that I tossed in my opposite direction. I am from the woody, aging trees Whose branches I used to hang on. I'm from the screaming, The horri

Your name is Rooba Boot Congratulations! You had the honor of being a District 8 tribute in the 18th Hunger Games! You were killed by slipping on a banana peel.