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I kind of just sat their numb to the world while Vanaleta whirled around me like a tornado. Throwing anything she saw necessary into the trunk. I couldn't see a pattern in what she threw in. The look on her face told me not to put up a fight, to not ask her why she was inside my room, why their was a creature, man thing flickering like a candle in my room. It didn't hit me until she started to slow down what was going on. She was in my bathing room when i shot up out of bed and promptly fell to my knees. Once i was on my feet the world went black. I crashed to my knees, something caught my shoulders, holding me upright. My vision slowly came back, it felt like being stuck under water looking up at the world tat was above you but not being able to see it clearly, then suddenly braking threw the surface. the next clear thing to me was having my hair held back, and someone gently rubbing circles on my back. It felt like they were trying to be carful, like they were touching an unfamiliar animal for the first time. I remember looking up and seeing Vanaleta run into the room, seeing her eyes go dark, as my world went black again. God i wanted to scream, to make a sound, to so anything. But the Black that pressed down on my vision it felt like a crushing weight, pressing down onto my chest until i gasp, al the air was let out, and it finally pulled me under.
Like the main the author must die
their lives written out, bound by a books spine
Their eyes are yours, you have what's left of their mind.
How tragic the story line was?
Well that was their lives.
They give you who they are, so you can read to
throw away some time.
Months to years of their lives soaked up in a weeks time.
But yes like the main, their creator must die.
But they are immortal in another way.
Their mind might die but their world will stay.
With hands now plagued with arthritis, and blind milky filmed eyes
They cannot tell you about their mains lives.
Aged is their mind, taken by time,
But immortal is the world they created....
A whole world...in a few hundred pages...lives carried out
and then shut down....
Yes like their main an author must die.
  Mar 2016 Andie May ostrander
Gaffer
The child has gone
Such a long time
They searched like everywhere
But something told them
The child has gone
They started looking inwards
Watching expressions
Looking for that clue
So strange, nothing
The child has gone
Days turned to weeks
Nothing
Nationwide alert
Calls came in, including the cranks
The child has gone
The search died down
Talk spread
Children stayed indoors
Fear became the byword

She watched within the large tree
Her secret hiding place
It was fun
The earth collapsed pulling her under
She tried to scream
Too late
The child has gone.
When I die I will live on.
You will find me weir I've lived for so long.
In between books seems and in poetry readings.
In brush strokes and paintings.
I am a child of literature, the daughter of written things
My skins made out of book pages, my mind out of
the words I read.
When I die yes I will live on.
I will live on in between hard and paper back book seems.
I am a lover who's never known love
A dreamer who cant fall asleep and
a human that cares to much.
even with this do you still think I'm enough?
Die
I'm not going to die today
but I might just need you still.

No im not going under tonight
but I could use your company

Yeah I'm not going to die tonight
but without you I just might
Once I had a dream that my father tried to **** me,
and everyone that was beside me was a man who had hurt me.
He had my heart inside a box and figured I was lost,
so he brought out a knife he had labeled 'Time.'
All the men in my life at some time or another,
left me at some point, in pursuit of another.
So no wonder in my dream, some men did try to protect me
but, turned around and carved their names into my heart.
All the women did not come, to heal my heart or give me another one.
So I was left on my own, with a hollow space under bone.
A cold feeling in my soul, that I now call my home....
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