There isn’t anything left. There isn’t anything left. Heeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaavvvvveee. Heave Heeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaavvvvvvvvvvveeeee. Heeeeaaaaaaaa. Vvvvvvveeeee. Heeaaa.

There isn’t anything left to come out. Eeeeaave……….. Eeeaavvve…………. Eeeave……….. The grass is brushing sick in lines against my cheek, I’m staring at a pile of it flattening out the grass. Around me is the fields, I’m flushed hot. .COUGH. COUGH A little more acidy sick……… spit it out, a long string, breaks into the grass. ……..

……………..Ah what. What do I do now? School must be starting now. What’s the time. I don’t know. School must be starting now. I’m late. I’m late. Ding dong ding dong, dong ding ding dong. Huhhhh. That’s it. I’m in the wrong place. Uh. It’s done. Acidy taste. I’m late.

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About Sharpie Panick

I’m a burgeoning writer – actually been burgeoning for a couple of weeks now – grappling with my failing English vocabulary and using my impressive naivety as a source of perspective. Follow my progress and please give me advice if anything comes to mind.
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