I woke up to the sound of this: "DESTINY GET YOUR BUTT OUT OF katil RIGHT NOW!" I dragged myself out of bed, and walked into the hallway. "YOU HAVE A BLOOD TESTING IN 45 minit AND anda BETTER BE READY IN 10!" She yelled. I walked back to my room, and began to put my clothes on. I pulled out a pair of dark-wash jeans, and pulled a white t-shirt over my head. Then, I put on a magenta cardigan, that cut off around my hips. It was my favroite artikel of clothing that I owned. I walked to the bathroom, and sat down on my stool, already tired-out from having to walk all the way across the room. I got out my tooth-brush and put some toothpaste on it. I brused my teeth, and after about 2 minutes, I washed out all of the leftover toothpaste and spit from the brush. Then, I pull my long, wispy, brown hair back into a ponytail. That was the one thing that my disease had left alone. I put on a pair of $15 boots I had gotten from Target a tahun back, and walked down the stairs. Nearly halfway down, I tripped on a box of pictures I made in kindergarden. I fell, step after step, until I reached the bottom. I screamed, and my Mom came rushing to the scene. I was ok, I guess. I just couldn't get up from the spot I fell down at. So my Mom helped me up, and get into the car. I sit in the passenger's seat, seterusnya to my Mom just in case. We arive at the hospital in 13 minit time. When I was being taken back, I saw a farmiliar face on a bloody, bruised, and burned body. I couldn't tell who it was at first. And then it hit me. It was my Dad.
I write what i feel and try to
make them seem so-real to
you, but all anda want from me
is honesty.
as i write out the facts
anda act like anda don't really
care where my hati, tengah-tengah truly is.
Let me tell anda where it
is, it's in the honesty of my
poetry, deep inside my hati, tengah-tengah
it's the only thing that reveals
the emotions deep down inside
my soul.
as i hold onto the emotions
that creates honest puisi
that i write, i see anda looking
at my private diaries understanding
who i want to be.
anda look at me and anda
seem to know what i'm
feeling as i'm revealing
to anda the emotions that
comes from within my
soul.
as i hold the key to this
honest puisi that i compose
anda seem to believe every-little
detail that i have to say to you.
make them seem so-real to
you, but all anda want from me
is honesty.
as i write out the facts
anda act like anda don't really
care where my hati, tengah-tengah truly is.
Let me tell anda where it
is, it's in the honesty of my
poetry, deep inside my hati, tengah-tengah
it's the only thing that reveals
the emotions deep down inside
my soul.
as i hold onto the emotions
that creates honest puisi
that i write, i see anda looking
at my private diaries understanding
who i want to be.
anda look at me and anda
seem to know what i'm
feeling as i'm revealing
to anda the emotions that
comes from within my
soul.
as i hold the key to this
honest puisi that i compose
anda seem to believe every-little
detail that i have to say to you.