

A Series of Events: Part IIII nearly fell from the tree that day. The one with the great white trunk, And fuzzy, frosty leaves. The day I turned ten, And lost the last of my baby teeth.A Series of Events: Part III
I felt fear on that day. The kind you feel when you stumble, Down a single, steep stair. The day I turned ten, And lost the last of my smiles.
I held on tight for my life that day. The kind of tightness reserved, For long, loving hugs. The day I turned ten, And lost the last of my faith.
I look to the lot on this day. The kind of thoughtful look, Found in new, buddin


A Series of Events: Part IIMy mother was often out to work, and my father was always at the bottle. Walks did wonders for my mind and soul back then. I learned on one of these walks the truth about myself, and all that I held dear to me. I never hated my mother, oh no, on the contrary; I love my mother. Everything about her was for me. My father, on the other hand, was never much of one. I didn't really hate him, instead I merely didn't like him. Sure, he would have made a wonderful friend. I can understand this for he was always willing to throw a few back and bull-shit on the wire. OnA Series of Events: Part II


A Series of EventsI once believed that man could rule the world with fire. Not with guns, or knives, but with fire. Pure flame, nothing more. I once believed that man could rule the wild with fire. With flames I believed we could tame the beasts, yet I never anticipated the ferocity of the wild. I once believed that man would rule with fire, and now, it seems, we do.A Series of Events
Life is not merely a series of events, but a series of catalysts, working to fuel the fire we wield. In the end, the flame dies out. In the beginning, however, it burns brightly. A fire that can be held in the hands of
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