StarZlinger

Oh wilting and dying Rose What is causing thy death? Oh woe is us, for nobody knows What is taking our Rose's last breath. The Rose that we planted In the pot we call life The view is now slanted Of me and you, my beautiful wife Where have we gone wrong? Where did our Rose start it's death? We used to be strong Now, our love is on its last breath The man you slept with Planted a tulip in our pot Is our Rose now a myth? Is our Rose left to rot? Will you come back to me Oh beautiful Rose of mine Let me feel all the glee That made me so fine Come back, Oh Rose. Come back to me, Oh Rose. Come stay in my pot. You and me together.

 I've awoken at 5 am Dreaming of some ham I wish to sleep, I do But I feel kinda blue I get those feelings A bit like orange peelings That I'm not enough And it's rough I'm supposed to be great It's apparently my fate At least, it's what they say But when is that day? I feel useless and obsolete It has me worn and beat Especially when it's 5 am And I'm dreaming of more than ham

 Some people look over the blood in the battlefield and think it is wrong. They believe they have messed up. All the blood spilt. Why? Over some little battle that I started. Yet I see it as an opportunity to build back up. To come back and win this fight. Let me update you, soldier. The war started about 3 months ago. Someone took my wife, then almost took my life. As I stared him in the eyes, he told me that fateful line. “Odis says hi!” and then the dagger plunged into my abdomen. I awoke the next day in our medical ward. It wasn’t the best, but it was the best thing a world riddled with radiation could supply. I was st

 Everyone has battles. You can’t disagree with that with that. But everyone also has internal battles, such as what is right and wrong. Here, let me tell you a story. Long ago, within a wolf pack, a pup was born. Of course, that is normal, because of nature and everything. So this pup is born, and there is something special about it. It’s coat is as white as snow. This occurs only once every millenia. So this snow wolf starts growing up, then he hears a story. A short story, but a story nonetheless. The story is about the black wolf. The wolf who was the second wolf ever born, right behind the first white wolf. The story goes o

"One hour, 4144 Elm." He says, "Now leave, quickly." They dash out of the parlour, leaving the mysterious man behind. Once they were a fair distance away, he turns to her and just says, "What the heck. How does he know where...I mean when...I mean...you know!" "Honestly!" She exclaims back at him, "I have no clue how he knows our when!" "Okay...Let's, first off, keep our voices down. We don't want more people figuring out our when-abouts. Secondly, let's think about this. Should we go in," He checks his wrist watch, "40 minutes?" She looks at him and puts on a face of thinking. Her face is straining, looking like she is in pain, intense pain