Library
Calling this place "The Library" gives it a bad rap, I say. There aren't stacks of books and old women with glasses on chains with their hair up in buns and their lips pursed, and you don't have to be quiet. There are, instead, stacks of Neutralika's writings, glass windows on chains and little children getting their hair stuck in cinnamon buns, licking their lips as they find sugar treats in their mother's purses.
But that is besides the point. Writings are not organized in any particular fashion, but their form and a small description sit beside them.
The Greetings Game - List; 100% useless.
My Kingdom - Metaphor; angry and disappointed.
The Receptionist - Conversation; putting personal issues into words. (Note: I am not actually homosexual)
The Resentful Apology - Apology to a friend.
My Screw - Nonsensical story; I had a screw laying around at my desk.
Stained Glass - Metaphor; worried and questioning.
Toolbox - Narrative poem; offering help to a friend.
Walk away, Wisdom - Metaphor; unequal and unworthy.
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