http://slow.writerscafe.org/bgr5047 The original writings of author BrittBratBroski en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776190336 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 February 22, 2018 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bgr5047/2006938/ March 1, 2016 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bgr5047/2006491/ September 21, 2013 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bgr5047/2006489/ September 21, 2013 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bgr5047/2006488/ October 15, 2014 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bgr5047/2006487/ ScarsWe all have themWe all leave them Either burned by intense passionOr by getting stabbed repeatedly in the back We are all but mere puppetsGetting our strings pulled by The Supreme Being or the Lowly Devil .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bgr5047/2006486/ May 15, 2014 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bgr5047/2006485/ January 3, 2014 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bgr5047/2006483/ November 29, 2013 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bgr5047/2006482/ November 29, 2013 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bgr5047/2006479/ September 21, 2013 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bgr5047/2006478/ 2013 age 18. It was for my english class and we had to present our work to the class. After I read it, I remember that no one was clapping. I had to lie and say that my family was just tired. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bgr5047/2006476/ I wrote this piece when I was 16 in 2011. It the cornerstone for my creative writing. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bgr5047/2006472/ I look down and I am in a pool of my own blood. I look up and you are holding the knife. I look at you and you are bleeding too. I look behind you and someone else is holding a gun. The cycle stops with me.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bgr5047/2006471/ Nobody is home. 3 pm on a Tuesday afternoon. Except a little girl on the floor of her bedroom making soft moans. As she touches herself, she thinks about physically loving the body she was given. This is her home and she will cherish it. She caresses her flower taking in all the wonderful sensations.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bgr5047/2006466/ My soul is slowly vanishing. Day by day, I hear the wind blow through the holes of my body. I look around and I'm lost at sea on a four person boat. My pain, anxiety, and anger all accompany me on this journey. Journey to where? Where am I going? I am drifting on the dark waters with no sign of land.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bgr5047/2006460/