http://slow.writerscafe.org/oxneverforeverxo The original writings of author Caitlin Nicole en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776046038 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 The best of us pay the most. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/378798/ A descriptive essay I wrote for my English class. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/370879/ Inspiration to write can come from the simplest things. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/367201/ A song about the confusion of being repeatedly terrorized by reoccurring nightmares. Is there a meaning behind them? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/357442/ Sometimes there is more to worry about than you think. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/352532/ A song about people who don't see things in the correct light. They believe that they are being bombarded with problems when really, their problems were created inside themselves and are all peeking out at once. NOTE: I am not separating myself from thes http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/349381/ n http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/342780/ What is she thinking while up on that stage? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/329269/ You tell me I'm crazy, but honestly aren't we all?We cry when we're hurt and laugh when others fall,Our hearts on the edge of breaking, From all the lies we've been taking,So many theories, so many plans, Some believe in karma, some believe it's out of out hands,So many beliefs, so.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/323530/ k http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/320621/ Kind of a poem version of my story "I can't believe you" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/315047/ Not even the unquestionable beauty of a stary, moonlit night can compare to the beauty of the love we share. It is only but our setting. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/295641/  I can’t even see the hand I wave in front of my face it is so foggy. And how cold it is! It must be the middle of winter and I’ve nothing to cover my arms with. I think that I may freeze to death. Tears fall from my soar eyes. I go to wipe them and I find frozen drops of ice.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/289834/ Never take the word "paranoia" lightly. It may just leave you "wide-eyed in the dead of night"... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/284975/ June 6, 2009           Well, I don’t like to complain, dear diary, but really, what else are diaries for? I was thinking . . . I kind of wish I would still have my dreams. Those dreams. Well, you know. I’m crazy right? Well, you sho.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/281090/ A monologue I wrote and preformed for my drama class. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/278899/ Just a song... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/278877/ A dream is one thing. Brush it aside once you awaken from it. But a reoccurring, detailed dream of the life of a girl you've never laid eyes on before, is something completely different. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/278850/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/278647/ This is a poem I wrote from my english class. It was supposed to be in the point of view of Richard Cory from the poem, "Richard Cory" by Edwin Arlington Robinson and was to answer the question in Paul Laurence Dunbar's "Why Fades a Dream?& http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/274568/ This isn't really a poem, but I suppose it was the closest from the choices given. Reviews are appriciated =] http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/274371/ Sometimes, the best kind of comfort isn't from a person... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/273159/ A poem written for history class. I don't think it's very good so if there is anything you can think of that would make it better please share =] http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/260447/ When the monster inside that frame keeps digging it's nails tighter into your neck, the best you can do is plead. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/258952/  The bruise he slapped across her face,Is hidden with makeup without a trace,The tears that are her lullaby,Are just faint streaks she will deny, The humility she wears when she’s with him,Is replaced with the light that he made dim,She transforms from sorrow to bea.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/256491/  An hour later we landed in Missouri. “More than half way home,” I tell myself.   I watch the buildings that pass out the window of the bus. I’m on my way to the next airport. I see a Giddy Greens. Mom and I use to go there every Sunday for lunch. It was so muc.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/256391/  The last memory of my mother was nothing I’m proud of. She was crying on the sofa. She was telling me about something Greg said to her that hurt her feelings. No surprise.  She was like a child. Her legs were tucked underneath her as she hugged a pillow. I wished so badly.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/256363/    The note that I left Greg was this: Greg, I hate to repeat myself but I can’t stress this fact enough. You ruined my and my mother’s life. I never knew anyone could be that cold-hearted until I met you. I know you killed her, Greg. Don’t bother denyin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/256361/   I’m walking through the woods. Its’ cold. Way too cold. I don’t know how I’m going to make it. The wind is making my ears and nose burn. I have to take a break. I sit against a tall pine tree. The ground is soggy and my clothes are now too.  I can&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/256319/              Greg F. Hives was once a employee of my mother’s. Yes, my dead mother was once Greg’s boss. I remember being in the car with my mom on the way to the bank. She would ask me to sort through her checks and find the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/256310/              “Run! Faster!” My mind tells me. “Hurry! Before he catches up to you!”  So tell me, where do you think I am? What do you think I’m doing? Am I at a track meet? Am I playing ta.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/256305/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/256303/  You speak the stories I’ve never heard,I’m still dwelling on every word,Your first assumed virgin kiss,Is doused in drunkenness you couldn’t resist, I really must say, I don’t know how,You did what you did, revealed to me now,And how you could keep .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/256270/  Alone in her home with a knot is all ready,And the stool right below is solid and steady,With a sorrow so deep she tied that rope tight,And hung it from the ceiling, creating this sight, With a blank stare she examines the scene,Bouquets from the funeral sit with beauty unse.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/oxneverforeverxo/256269/