20 Seconds Of Pure Embarrassing Courage

~Change~

Songs for this chapter are Fallen Angels by Black Veil Brides and Real Gone by Sheryl Crow. So I had an extremely long day of STAAR testing, for those people who have absoultly no clue what I am talking about that is Texas' state test that we have to take every year (State of Texas Assestment Of Acidemic Readiness) I am pretty sure 'Readiness' insn't a real word, but whatever Texas that is your problem. So anyway I had alot of ideas whil ein testing and I had been dying to write them :) Also quick question for all my romanctic fans; me and my boyfriends one year anniversary is coming up and I need ideas of what we should do and what should I get him so if you want to be extrememly awesome I will take sugestions. Seriously I need it THAT bad.

So I think that is it Special thanks to E2theM for the pretty banner of there and eventually I will have a trailer for this story :) I love this story so much and I love all my amazing readers with a passion!! Mwa!

~~Isabelle 

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There are two reasons why people change;

1) Because they have learned a lot

2) Because they have been hurt too much

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~Change~

Scream, shout, scream, shout, we are the fallen angels

My brown hair was tied back into a messy make-shift bun, flipping from side to side as my arm moved. I had my old Elite volleyball shorts on matched with a paint stained white V-neck that was three sizes too big. It fell off my shoulder exposing my crisp black bra that layer underneath it but I made no attempt to reposition it. Right now it was me, my paint and my emotions.

We are the in between, cast down as sons of war,
Struck to the earth like lightning, on this world we're torn,
We won't cause the pain, of living out their law,
Take joy in who you are we know our wings are flawed,
We're bored to death in heaven, and all alone in hell,
We only want to be ourselves

I dunked my wide paint brush into an unknown paint bucket and swiftly threw my arm into a serving motion watching as a bright pink sprayed along my large canvas paper. Small dots of pink scattered along the edge of my trail mixing in with the other colors that decorated the once plain canvas. I felt my bangs begin to fall down from my bun I did not move, I just threw my brush again letting the paint fly off and contacted the paper.

We scream we shout
We are the fallen angels, we scream
We shout, whoa-oh, whoa-oh-oh-ohh,
To those who sing alone, no need to feel this sorrow,
We scream (We scream) we shout whoa,
We are the fallen angels

I toss the brush aside and pick up another clean one, running my thumb over the fresh cut bristles. I splash it in my sink next to my kummel before letting it sink in the sky blue paint; the fresh aroma of chemicals leaked into my nostrils as I swiftly pulled my brush out. I run my finger over the sky blue covered bristles before whipping it at the canvas watching it spray on it over the pink.

Follow the morning star,
A light when darkness fell
The passion left unholy now you find yourself,
We have nowhere to go, no one to wish us well,
A cry to find our home, our stories they will tell,
We're bored to death in heaven, and all alone in hell,
We only want to be ourselves