The past is gone but not forgotten by this young boy named White Hawk; he has a rare gift some people may say. His parents do not have an answer on why he stares at nothing for a period of time. He gets angry when you ask a certain question. He sees a shadow figure, not quite sure what it is yet. He dosen't think anything of it yet. The old ones sees it as a gift from the Creator, and White Americans say differently.
This is a true dramatic story about turbulent Africa of the late 1960s-early 1970s and a dramatic crossing of the Sahara Desert, followed by a deep African jungle adventure during that turbulent time of Revolution.
To say, this isn't really a book. More of a published saying of thoughts. As the title iterates, the thoughts I have about a certain someone. I'm sure all of you are capable of feelings, and know what I mean when I say things about her. So please, sit down, read, laugh about my failing love life. Don't worry.
A short poem spurred on by the loss of a girl at my school.
*How am I supposed to write a whole blurb about a short poem???????????????????*
you may request anyone and i will make a fanfiction on them but it must be yaoi and you may be like mike x foxy or male chica x male reader or male chica x male toy chica it dosent have to be thease pairings they are just
one day the was three children each called bob, Ellie and mike and they all went to the libary one day to play happppppy wheeeeels the best game in the world so of they went to the library when they got there there was only three computers left lucky for them there was only three of them anyways................ read on to find out what happened when they get into the library and play happppppppy wheeeeeeeels.
Lesson's from my past - revisiting this poem to remind myself that it's dritical to share feelings about a relationship before their is no relationship to share.
Perhaps it will help someone at the right moment....
He waits beneath the scarlet sea.
His voice is thunder, whispered quietly.
His eyes are faith, felt in fear and wonder.
His grasp is the course of finality.
The past is gone but not forgotten by this young boy named White Hawk; he has a rare gift some people may say. His parents do not have an answer on why he stares at nothing for a period of time. He gets angry when you ask a certain question. He sees a shadow figure, not quite sure what it is yet. He dosen't think anything of it yet. The old ones sees it as a gift from the Creator, and White Americans say differently.
This is a true dramatic story about turbulent Africa of the late 1960s-early 1970s and a dramatic crossing of the Sahara Desert, followed by a deep African jungle adventure during that turbulent time of Revolution.
To say, this isn't really a book. More of a published saying of thoughts. As the title iterates, the thoughts I have about a certain someone. I'm sure all of you are capable of feelings, and know what I mean when I say things about her. So please, sit down, read, laugh about my failing love life. Don't worry.
A short poem spurred on by the loss of a girl at my school.
*How am I supposed to write a whole blurb about a short poem???????????????????*
you may request anyone and i will make a fanfiction on them but it must be yaoi and you may be like mike x foxy or male chica x male reader or male chica x male toy chica it dosent have to be thease pairings they are just
one day the was three children each called bob, Ellie and mike and they all went to the libary one day to play happppppy wheeeeels the best game in the world so of they went to the library when they got there there was only three computers left lucky for them there was only three of them anyways................ read on to find out what happened when they get into the library and play happppppppy wheeeeeeeels.
Lesson's from my past - revisiting this poem to remind myself that it's dritical to share feelings about a relationship before their is no relationship to share.
Perhaps it will help someone at the right moment....
He waits beneath the scarlet sea.
His voice is thunder, whispered quietly.
His eyes are faith, felt in fear and wonder.
His grasp is the course of finality.