Firedragon16

I want to write just like you do, Your words captivate and mystify. I try to write words like that too, But always find myself unsatisfied. I wanna sing the same way as you, Miss Voice-Like-The-Angels-Of-The-Sky. I wanna sing just as beautifully as you do, but I always give up long before I try. "I envy you, I really do, I wanna be JUST LIKE YOU." The stories end before they're through, the notes go sour, the melodies die. I was so caught up in "I wanna be like you", That I now find myself asking, "who am I?"

 "Annabelle!" Bianca burst through the doors to Annabelle Fritton's bedroom at St. Trinian's School for Young Ladies; her eyes panicking and her voice yelling, "Annabelle, AD1 took Celia!!" "What?!" Annabelle sprung out of her chair and ran over to Bianca, "What do you mean they took Celia? How did they get Celia?" "Took her right off the street! They knew she was connected to you and St. Trinian's, so they stole her when she and I were coming back from our afternoon in town. I chased the truck for two whole blocks before I lost 'em." She did look rather winded. "Well, then get everyone together, Bianca. It looks like we're about to condu

 Sir Piers Pomfrey, clad only in his cotton pajamas and wielding a tea cup in one hand, was walking down the long corridor to his bedroom. It had been a long day, and all he wanted was some tea, a good book, and his warm sheets. He took a gulp of his perfect-temperature tea and crawled into his bed; settling in comfortably with a research book about how, since their brains are larger, men are smarter than woman. It should be a good read. A few chapters and half his tea glass later, there was a commotion out in the hall. Piers rolled his eyes and went to go untangle Peters from the coat of arms in the hallway, just like last time. But when h