added by alicia386
This True Writers foto contains tramonto alba, tramonto, and aurora. There might also be resort, hotel resort, luogo di villeggiatura, località di villeggiatura, lacustre, riva del lago, al lago, lungolago, di fronte all'oceano, and fronte oceano.
When will this end?
Mass shootings
Terrorist attacks
Police brutality
They say it's just a gun control problem
They say it cannot be fixed
I say the problem is deeper
I say there is hope
When will this end?
Income inequality
Veterans living on the streets, penniless,
Dying da their own hands every day.
Some say they will make America better
But nothing has changed...
And I truly do fear
Nothing ever will
When will Amore start?
The giorno we offer a hand to the fallen
Instead of cringing back in shock
And running away
When will our world change?
The giorno we Amore too much to kill
The giorno others' pain becomes our pain
The giorno we act instead of just talking about it
"It's impossible"
"We're too broken to be mended"
"It's a hopeless battle"
Yes, it's hard, but let us try.
Mass shootings
Terrorist attacks
Police brutality
They say it's just a gun control problem
They say it cannot be fixed
I say the problem is deeper
I say there is hope
When will this end?
Income inequality
Veterans living on the streets, penniless,
Dying da their own hands every day.
Some say they will make America better
But nothing has changed...
And I truly do fear
Nothing ever will
When will Amore start?
The giorno we offer a hand to the fallen
Instead of cringing back in shock
And running away
When will our world change?
The giorno we Amore too much to kill
The giorno others' pain becomes our pain
The giorno we act instead of just talking about it
"It's impossible"
"We're too broken to be mended"
"It's a hopeless battle"
Yes, it's hard, but let us try.
Newly born
Squeals
Pitifully
A tiny voice raised high
Going nowhere
Confined
Confused
A single spot on the page
Then
It grows
And walks in waves and braves the amaro wind
Shakily on its spindly legs, it smudges the paper
Canto its first tune
A tiny tune
Twirling and whirling
It grows taller
And tougher
With every beat of its half-grown heart
It grows
Joined da others
They sing together
A forgotten voice
A reflection
Of Lost symphonies
Tooting their trumpets
They stand to attention
An army of discord
Marching forth
Into a brand new dawn
Squeals
Pitifully
A tiny voice raised high
Going nowhere
Confined
Confused
A single spot on the page
Then
It grows
And walks in waves and braves the amaro wind
Shakily on its spindly legs, it smudges the paper
Canto its first tune
A tiny tune
Twirling and whirling
It grows taller
And tougher
With every beat of its half-grown heart
It grows
Joined da others
They sing together
A forgotten voice
A reflection
Of Lost symphonies
Tooting their trumpets
They stand to attention
An army of discord
Marching forth
Into a brand new dawn
adventre
Jack turned and ran his own screams still ringing in his ears. He manged to find an empty classroom in which he collapsed against the door.
He must have been imagining it there is no way Mr Thompson is dead? His body was slumped in the chair, blood trickling down his face and his ghost was sitting on scrivania, reception staring at the door a pale grey." JAAAAAACK!" an unearthly shriek sounded through the air. Jack ran to the window and tried to open it but it was locked. CRASH the door flew of the hinges and Mr Thompson entered.
Jack ran through the door straight under the ghost and sprinted down the corridor.He finally reached the exit, he wrenched on the door as hard as his strength would allow but it wouldn't budge. he could see out of the corner of the eye Mr Thompson gliding down the corridor looking in each classroom. Quickly and quietly Jack slid behind a chair in reception. "AGRHHHHHHHH!"
something had grabbed jack round the neck
END of chapter two
Jack turned and ran his own screams still ringing in his ears. He manged to find an empty classroom in which he collapsed against the door.
He must have been imagining it there is no way Mr Thompson is dead? His body was slumped in the chair, blood trickling down his face and his ghost was sitting on scrivania, reception staring at the door a pale grey." JAAAAAACK!" an unearthly shriek sounded through the air. Jack ran to the window and tried to open it but it was locked. CRASH the door flew of the hinges and Mr Thompson entered.
Jack ran through the door straight under the ghost and sprinted down the corridor.He finally reached the exit, he wrenched on the door as hard as his strength would allow but it wouldn't budge. he could see out of the corner of the eye Mr Thompson gliding down the corridor looking in each classroom. Quickly and quietly Jack slid behind a chair in reception. "AGRHHHHHHHH!"
something had grabbed jack round the neck
END of chapter two
