Wall for JaJaDingDong (page 8)

oh

I really hope I'm not the person annoying you, I kind of fit the description since I'm pretty popular here. Sorry if i've been acting like an idiot lately

Okay that was fast XD the udeas on my wall ut’s bew twust on how we percuve evil irgs kinda

No nit a Psychic but when i saw the nane Marnie as a leader it was my  immediate  Gyess. Snow lives Chlicate which is bad for her gealth wise but sge’s so stinking chre i tottally don’t keave any on ourpise (cough cough)

Oh hey i hacs you to thank for my vewest FF idea you got me thinking abkut Team Skull sl check out my waAll in a but lemme know what you think XD

Oh, OK. XD

Nice poetry. XD

Ih PS team Tell soubds lije a bitched cheer squad but i’ll look it up XD

We have 2 cats i’d share but i don’t think either woyld wanna go ocerseas. sydni’s the 13 year old Snowberi’s the 5 year okd Snow is quirky she abskultg adires yogyrt, pudding, and ics cream dksen’t care what flavor i had oumpkin ucs cream two days ago, she trued to steal ut! I lje that “a muppet” i’d if sahd sobething else bht yours is nicer XD

yesssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

✨ I really like your poem! ✨

The Wall Outside the English Block
by ♪Barbara Bingbong♪™

The lips of the bricks smile with glee
As the anticipation of spring
Warms the air.
The fronds nod expectantly
Towards the climbing Sun
As it nears and shortens
Our dark stalkers.

Soon high enough
And peaceful,
Childless.
But it’s too short to last and soon enough

The flames that tickle and lap
Like puppy’s leaping playfully against their soulless owner
Sprout from past green memories
And scale the wall
Until the darkness of autumn engulfs
The youngest students’ fears of homework and stress
And leave room to goggle annoyingly
At by the teachers that stroll
Uniformly to fulfil their various errands.

When the merry teachers
Decorate their rooms we must wonder
Whether they are bringing the waning blooms
Indoors; they have been magicked away
For protection against
The wolves’ howling that slashes and gnashes
As they gnaw upon Death’s blouse.
The naked cement watches in awe as
Their dreams of blooms turn their heads in dreary daze
Against the swirling rage of the frothed sky
That no student nor teacher
Has dared to watch before.
But it must not fret or crumble away
For they shall be back,
Perhaps hauling the blessed bloom
Of the next cycle
Of the next Spring.
Until then we must live with
O, such a cursed word