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Youths eyes oversee truth Captained by a world of hatred Too young yet too old A thin line of reality “To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it's about, but the inner music that words make.” Truman Capote

Saturday, May 3, 2008

A Little Help From My Mother

Well, yesterdays post pretty much sucked. I was on a role with my poetry and I hadn't had one for a while and of course that when my mother comes down and demands the computer. Usually I wouldn't complain, but I wanted to finish the poem. So, I say can you give me a minute. That went over really freakin well. She got super pissed. Anyways, long story short, she got pissed, I didn't finish my poem and the post sucked.

Today I found out that instead of going back to my moms house - i was staying at my moms for two says while my dad and his "fiance" were at a conference - so back at my dads, and I'm staying till Thursday. woopdee freakin day! I hate being at my dads. It's so god damn annoying. The bitch aka fiance, is always breathing down my neck, and she is bipolar. I swear to it! Can't say much more, shes walking, pardon me, stalking around down stares. As I said - breaths down peoples backs!!!


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