The Girl Who Left HomeHush one and hush all for my story is about to unfold!The Girl Who Left Home by Blonde4Shakespeare
A legend of choices and adventure untold.
So listen closely as I spin my tale,
About a girl who longed for fun and the man who came without fail.
There once was a girl, by the age of seventeen,
Whom for her birthday could not be seen.
It all began, or at least this story did,
The night before, and started with a kick.
A kick to door to be more exact,
But I'm not so sure you were curious about that.
The very lady of the hour?
None other than Miss Olivia Morris who was quite sour.
Now let me take a pause and explain ,
Miss Morris was lovely and sweet and rarely a pain.
The reason she was so upset as of late?
There was simply too much on her plate.
Too many thoughts of college and the "later",
That she forgot to just breathe and forget about the "haters".
Just when she was lost in her despair and wallowing in woe,
She heard a strange sound that left her mouth in a perfect "o".
She stood as the "whomp whomp whomp" grew louder and fierc
I'm a LoserLook at meI'm a Loser by Blonde4Shakespeare
I'm a loser
Hijacked, bomb throwing
Lazy ass drug abuser
I'm walking the outskirts
Trying not to get hurt
Still got a knife in the back
Why am I taking that?
There's just no counter attack
So picture that.
Look at me
I'm a looser
Sleazy little boozer
I'm just trying to be true, sir
I'm trying not to pretend
Tangled up in the loose ends
I crash before I even begin
Look at me
I'm a looser
Can't even face my accuser
Feel my anger, my ambition
Got some high-strung volition
In the streets,
It's a combat mission
Now I'm not asking for permission
Just a little recognition
In addition, some equality.
Do we agree?
Let's take an intermission.
Now look at me,
Still a loser.
A bruiser, refuser
But now I got my ammunition
Taking on the opposition
Gonna start a revolution
Amend my own constitution
Make my own resolution
Find my own damn solution
Can't you see?
There's no one coming to my rescue
I'm just a poor girl, an ex
ReaganReagan by Blonde4Shakespeare
Upon meeting Reagan your first impression would probably be something like, "Aww, she's a sweetie!"
Your last impression would most likely be similar to, "Uh, where's my wallet?"
Yes, Reagan was a daughter of Hermes - an uncanny one at that. She was a pickpocket extraordinaire and an outstanding liar to boot. Possessing a talented tongue in the ways of language, she was able to manipulate just about anything out of anyone. She was also a runner. Never the best fighter, but who needs a sword when you leave the giant bloodthirsty cannibals a mile behind?
Reagan's features were common for most Hermes's kids. Arched eyebrows, slightly upturned nose, ever-present smirk, but her eyes were big and round, almond-hazel colored and framed by think dark eyelashes. She had a mop of sunny bleached banana blonde hair. In stature, she was pixie like, only reaching the average person's shoulder. She made up f
Her Best FriendHer Best Friend by Blonde4Shakespeare
You could tell that she was a daughter of Ares. Her expression was bold, her eyes blazed. She seemed to be itching to move, twitching her feet, tossing her head from side to side. In the arena she was only a blur - if you blinked, you'd be on your ass in a second. She was a wicked good fighter and she knew it.
Her eyes were a jolting shade of blue. So blue, that I was tempted to ask if she was wearing contacts. Chestnut hair cascaded around her shoulders in a messy, disheveled cut. Somedays it frustrated her so much she came close to shaving it off.
'Appearances' fell in line with 'guys' and 'make-up' on her Importance Scale. Something next to zero. She was a daughter of Ares.
Ironically enough her face was pretty, heart-shaped, and splattered with amiable freckles. She had a strong jaw. The muscle jumped when she was angry. Her nose was round, a pierced with a small silver stu