

ItIt dances on command, It bends and spins and smiles,It
It toils at the hand of man,
No complaint all the while.
It cheers one with light-hearted ease,
Though it cannot move alone. When unassisted, one might believe,
It was crafted finely of stone.
Its movements, planned and skillful,
Admittedly still are stiff,
But due its jovial countenance,
It will grant a surly man a lift.
Strung and rigid, it is limited, It cannot laugh or sing,
It will, however, dance for you,
A happy, painted thing.


The Turning Point The Turning PointThe Turning Point
I ground my teeth angrily, forcefully ripping the thousandth comic sketch I'd made that day. It was hopelessly frustrating to be so inspired for my comic book while suffering from a tremendous case of art block. I inwardly wondered if Leonardo DaVinci ever had this problem.
Sighing, I rose from my desk. As I strode to the fridge,
--
lovya Karen^.^
--
What does not kill you makes you...stranger.
--
Love ya, Shawn. ^^
....no I don't
--
lovya Karen^.^
Karen. <3 <3 <3
--
Love ya, Shawn. ^^
--
*poke* o^_^0
w00t! i like your gallery!, your style is simply kawaii!
--
Muraki: WHAI HELLO THAR MR TSUZUKI
Tsuzuki: Y GO AWAY MR. MURAKI
Muraki: Y SO SRS MR TSUZUKI?
Tsuzuki: CUZ THIS IS MADNESS, MR. MURAKI
Muraki: MADNESS...? THIS! IS! ASSRAEP! *Pelvic thrust*
--
We might die from medication,but we sure killed all the pain
Previous Page12345Next Page