crayolagrrrl

The Questions You ask me why I do the things I do You ask me why I wear the clothes  I wear You even have the nerve to ask me why I am even alive I know you don't give a damn about me So why should I even care? Maybe it's because you, of all people, Should care No matter what I do No matter what I wear And if I'm Alive or not For these questions you ask me I have one answer... YOU

"ive always luved da wolfiez" she says. "Really?" i asked "Yup! Theyre so cute and fluffy and feirce! They can kill a person, you know?" We were still in the interogation room at the police station. "If you loved Wolves so much, then why was there a completely slaughtered one in your kitchen?" "Because," an evil smile that made my stomache turn flashed across her face, "i love da wolfiez so much i want to be one." Now the girl had on a completely develish look on her face. Grinning like a physcopath, she said, "The only to become a wolfie is to catch and eat one of 'em." The girl, only 13 years old, grined at me with that horrible smile

Miss mary mack, mack, mack! All dressed in black, black black! Has a knife, knife, knife! Stuck in her back, back, back! She cannot breathe, breathe, breathe! She cannot cry, cry, cry! Thats why she begs, begs, begs! She begs to die,die,die!