Dear Diary,

Hi, my name is Rebel. But one big secret about me is that I'm really an angel just nobody knows. I have to keep it a secret because if the evil guys find out I'm toast. That means I'm in trouble. I have wings and can fly. Oh, how I love to fly. But now, let's talk about my parents well, more like personal demons. I have to be quiet because if they catch me I will have hell to pay. By that I mean that they will hit, kick, and whatever punishment they see fit. They're not my real parents though. I guess I should feel lucky that I'm not their real off spring. My parents didn't want me that's why I'm here. But whatever I don't need them. I'm an angel and angels don't have protecters, they protect. 

Another thing about me is that I'm thirteen years old. I go to Devils middle school where the cruelest most dirtiest of filth try to learn, but they can't. There too dumb to learn with there snotty turned up noses and daddy's money. Oh, and the school is filled with paranormal creatures. I have no friends and I'm ok with that, who needs them. Well, anyway it's time to go now. 

Secretly,

          Soldier

After I finish writing in my diary, I lay down and think about my first day of eighth grade tomorrow. I'm feeling too restless to sleep so I climbed out the window and took off my shirt. Calm down, I have a tank top under it. I then take out my golden wings with their sharp tips and faint glow. After I stretch them a little, I jump out the window into the air. 

I feel the cold, night air on my face and bare skin. I shoot up in the air with deadly altitude. Up with the clouds, feeling as if I could touch the stars, I smile. When I am like this, I am free. I yell and laugh at the feeling of being unstoppable. I look down upon the silly humans and other beings of earth. They can't touch me for I am Rebel the untouched. Who needs friends when you can talk to the moon? Who needs love when you are above all emotions. I do. I am now sad, sad because I have no one to love and am not loved by any. I head back to my window my high moon forgotten. Closing my window and putting my wings back in, I go to bed unloved, and forgotten. I don't feel so untouchable anymore.

Now in front of my school looking up at the apposing building. It's more like a castle than anything else. The school has long, stain glass windows with dark, stone walls. Yup, only thing that's missing is the moody music. It's beautiful and depressing in the foggy morning with no cars or bikes in the parking lot. The vacancy of the school leaves me all alone to admire the old building and think to myself. I realized this would be a perfect opportunity to work on my poetry.

The sun is bright,

But it too has a dark side,

And I just might,

Show you mine

The moon, it's lonely,

Perhaps its not the only,

Lover left morning,

For the sun to rise

Sweet universe of mine,

Could you turn back the time,

To when he belonged to me,

Oh, my dear Valintine 

For the sun is bright,

But it too had a dark side,

And maybe, just maybe,

I'll show you mine.

I then hear the piercing ring of a bell. The late bell.