What I write makes me sad, yet it's not always bad. Sometimes it's a confession or an expression of drpression. Later it will teach me a lesson, but there is an exeption. Sometimes i write how i feel other times it's not even real. I could be inspired by something great or maybe i'll write aboute world fate. This time it could be love and peace but more than likely anger and defeat. How i wish it were the end based on life of a friend. I keep it out of sight so what's it matter what i write? But i wont go down without a fight. I cant help but be confused, about how the world is being abused. I cant help but be afraid about wether my mom or dad wont get paid. If i let this all out it might hert. But its better than keeping it hidden under my shirt. Even if these letters make word that doesnt mean they have to be heard.
by Zarabeth Pawlowski