I wait. Dorment. I am called u pon only once a year. It is a trying, dull existance I lead.
Dull. Mundane. Few could weather it evan as well as I have. And I do not boast my loose stitches and faded patchwork, gapeing rim, pinpoint hole where my vertex should be.
Did you know the sorting hat was no requirment, or evan recommendation of the elated and reveered dumbledore? Ha! I tell you! It was NOT. It was an idea born of mine. It came about because I nothing better to do with my time. Or, more accurately, because I had nothing to do with my time. I could only wonder. Daydream of the coffee stain on the oposite wall, or of following the trail of cracks to freedom and a more interestingl ife. Then, one day, I thought to put my musings down, but of course could niether write nor find anyone who would not be bored with me as much as I to do the task for me. So I composed in song, as, the good ones at least, are catchy and not easily forgotten. And come the singular day I was needed, I could not stand to waste my newfound talent. Hence, I harped out the story of hogwarts.
Dispite my growling vocals, my grateing metso-forte brass, Dumbledore was pleased. And so I was allowed to sing, and sang. Year after year after year. A different song each time. I go through many songs a year, it is my only amusement- but it is only the best, or at least the newest if it bores me less- that the general public, discluding, of course, the muggles, gets to here.
Dull. Mundane. Few could weather it evan as well as I have. And I do not boast my loose stitches and faded patchwork, gapeing rim, pinpoint hole where my vertex should be.
Did you know the sorting hat was no requirment, or evan recommendation of the elated and reveered dumbledore? Ha! I tell you! It was NOT. It was an idea born of mine. It came about because I nothing better to do with my time. Or, more accurately, because I had nothing to do with my time. I could only wonder. Daydream of the coffee stain on the oposite wall, or of following the trail of cracks to freedom and a more interestingl ife. Then, one day, I thought to put my musings down, but of course could niether write nor find anyone who would not be bored with me as much as I to do the task for me. So I composed in song, as, the good ones at least, are catchy and not easily forgotten. And come the singular day I was needed, I could not stand to waste my newfound talent. Hence, I harped out the story of hogwarts.
Dispite my growling vocals, my grateing metso-forte brass, Dumbledore was pleased. And so I was allowed to sing, and sang. Year after year after year. A different song each time. I go through many songs a year, it is my only amusement- but it is only the best, or at least the newest if it bores me less- that the general public, discluding, of course, the muggles, gets to here.