Voice-of-Levity

The writers who most sought to win-- The final four that never gave in-- These are the stories they chose to scribe, The souls whose lives we now imbibe: The Devil's Daughter Forever abandoned, eternally lone, So often adopted, but never quite known, An orphan of sin, masquerading as sweet, Broken hearts paving the ground at her feet. The Fallen Deceiver Once god of tricks, as man, he lies. On gullible fools, his trade, he plies. So don't ask his name, unless prepared For property lost and mind ensnared. The Weapons for Hire Angry soldiers never die-- Vengeance burns too hot to try-- Boil instead alongside scum, Trading pride

I have one green eye and one brown eye. The green eye sees truth, but the brown eye sees much, much more believable things. Right now the brown eye sees a pudgy man in a white sweater vest. My green eye insists that he's a big, brown glob of slime oozing across the neighboring lawn. Gloop glorp gloop? "Just going for a run, Mr. Walker!" I answer. Splorch! "You're beginning to sound like Mom. Of course I'll be careful!" Pbbbt! "Now you sound exactly like Mom." We share a laugh, the sludge monster and I. Dean Walker is a real nice guy. Always friendly. Comes to church every Sunday. Volunteers to clean up the neighborhood trash. The rest

The writers who most sought to win-- The final four that never gave in-- These are the stories they chose to scribe, The souls whose lives we now imbibe: The Devil's Daughter Forever abandoned, eternally lone, So often adopted, but never quite known, An orphan of sin, masquerading as sweet, Broken hearts paving the ground at her feet. The Fallen Deceiver Once god of tricks, as man, he lies. On gullible fools, his trade, he plies. So don't ask his name, unless prepared For property lost and mind ensnared. The Weapons for Hire Angry soldiers never die-- Vengeance burns too hot to try-- Boil instead alongside scum, Trading pride

The writers who most sought to win-- The final four that never gave in-- These are the stories they chose to scribe, The souls whose lives we now imbibe: The Devil's Daughter Forever abandoned, eternally lone, So often adopted, but never quite known, An orphan of sin, masquerading as sweet, Broken hearts paving the ground at her feet. The Fallen Deceiver Once god of tricks, as man, he lies. On gullible fools, his trade, he plies. So don't ask his name, unless prepared For property lost and mind ensnared. The Weapons for Hire Angry soldiers never die-- Vengeance burns too hot to try-- Boil instead alongside scum, Trading pride