Beat to my own drum - NaPoWriMo Day 5
Saint Stephen's tale
It's Friday, sweets from Mrs Smith
Degeneration X and anarchy
Frankie's words: two tables, four chairs, suspension.
Discovered passing the buck, and thus passed it.
Stole the show with Twenty-one Questions, four dancers, and a singer.
First girlfriend changed everything, "You're young, she has baggage - get rid..." … did...
A place worse than prison, the inmates cackled. A prison for the poor. No more.
Found love doesn't conquer all. It couldn't conquer depression. Created shield, sword concealed.
Shield shattered, sword impaled, blood splattered. Defences down, phoenix mocks as world burns.
Remembered how to truly love, laid past to rest, ventured to the unseen realms of abundant peace.
Found a sister worth having, the smiles and coos of a niece, and a bro who knows how to party.
Presented passion, poetry, and persecution. A story. AIR Time. Memorial to pain.
Met friends like a prankster's birthday candle, calming light that never goes out.
Decided to forge an independent destiny. Marriage with life.
Became conscious of world affairs, the pulse of human heartbeat.
Threw away friendship for vain self-preservation.
Wept for Sergio's passing, All Souls shared.
Screamed suck it! So oblivious.
Wednesday: tea, toast, Tots TV.
Mrs Carrington's class