I Got a Facebook

I got a facebook.
It is confusing. Very confusing.
I don't understand.
But I guess I will soon.
I don't want to spend all my time on it.
I don't want to be obsessed.
I don't know that I want this facebook.
Yet I have it.
So that's that.

Stress

The stress of the world
Is to much to bear.
I am overwhelmed.
I wish I didn't care.

Even my dreams are stressful.
I toss and turn all night.
Still, sleep is beter that life,
For there I win the fight.

"Be anxious for nothing,"
The Bible says.
"Ask, and it will be given."
So I ask for peace.

Calm my pounding heart.
Unfold my tense chest.
Give me peace
As I face this test.

My fears have no foundation,
For I always survive.
In fact, most of the time,
I thrive.

With the help of the Father,
I will face my life.
I'll overcome my panic
To be rid of inner strife.

To Find Truth

Chapter One – by Squiddle
Once upon a time, there was a kingdom called Whidney. The center of this small kingdom lied in a green valley. The flowers there were bursting with color, and the grass flourished with a green seen nowhere else. The trees grew strong and tall, giving off a generous amount of shade. The citizens were generally cheerful and kind. They exchanged smiles in the mornings and nods in the nights, and always paused to help a poor beggar.
Often time they would look to the north, at the tall white towers, and say to themselves, “Aren’t we lucky to have such a fine king! He asks for little and gives so much. Long live the King!”
But every now and then, when they glanced south, they would spot a dark mountain, a black castle, and a forest of thorns. Then they said to themselves, “It’s been too long since I warned the children. They must never stray south. We must all beware!”
Still, all was happy in the kingdom of Whidney, and not one person suspected the trouble abrewing in that black castle on the dark mountain. For while the people worked and sang, Squiddle sat bored. When Sir Squiddle is bored, then fear should be in you, because it is when he is bored that he thinks of his most wonderful plans.
This time his plan was beautifully thought out, and it would keep him occupied for many a year. He clapped his hands and summoned his servants, then descended to the basement to work out the details. For months, he ground glass and stone. He set up gigantic mirrors and built the tallest walls. When he was done, his servants were tired, but he could not have been more pleased. The miles under his domain were transformed, and his people were in place.
Squiddle stood in his balcony and called out to his men. “Let the games begin!” His brilliant plan was prepared for takeoff.

I Want to Write

I want to write a new story.
Something filled with suspense, fantasy, and love.
I have a million ideas
But nowhere to go.

A princess, a prince,
And a villain so cruel.
A hero with wings,
Or no powers at all.

Illness, death;
So many paths to take!
A battle, a duel,
An emotional maze.

Slavery or oppression?
Sword or arrows?
Brown hair or blonde?
And how many pages?

Should I write a sequel,
Or introduce new characters?
Should there be sisters and brothers?
Or shall she be an orphan?

This is my creative outlet.
I just have one problem:
What story must become tangible?
And which one must lay in the dark?

Different

I'm different then the others
Few people understand
I live by rules
And I love to learn

Being different is hard.
I don't enjoy the same things.
I exclude myslf from them.
Surrounded by friends but alone.
My life.

My best friend is my mother.
My second best has moved.
I struggle to be understood,
But my peers cannot.

I care about school.
Is that so hard to respect?
Lonliness encases me,
And stress has followed.

Does anyone have the same cares?
Who but Mom shares my burden?
To be different is difficult.
Even accompanied by love.

Separate, I cry.
Alone, I think.
I praise and I beg.
O, Father, help me.

I am different.