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Description
MAN. this looked so much more awesome in my head than it turned out. PLUS, the scanner totally screwed around with the already yucky colors. ARRRG. Well, either way, I like fetuses. and drawing them. the fetal position is funnn.

this took me about 20 minutes to draw. and 25 minutes to paint. it shows. blehg.

fullview? yes.

OH by the way, that poem that's on there? I DID NOT WRITE IT. my besssst friend maddey wrote it. here's the whole thing:

I know how the Aging Earth feels

By Maddey Gates

I know what the Aging Earth feels.

Morning's mother-like hand waking her with the first touch of light.

The soft tickle of mountains like seeds sprinkled over her face.

The cool lakes like joyful teardrops and the forest's embrace.

When the first footsteps echo as thunder, and splits through the night.

He breaks branches like fingers, levels mountains for fields.

I know how the Aging Earth feels.

I know what the Aging Earth sees.

Cities tumble into warfare, mountains crumble to hate.

Children whip themselves to be who they see through stony eyes.

Starving tongues stretch upwards; taste what's left of our skies.

Something said is taken as a challenge, never friendly debate.

When hungry men unbuckle belts and little girls get to their knees.

I know what the Aging Earth sees.

I know what the Aging Earth hears.

Whispers like daggers thrown over continents and fences.

Notes like bullets meant to tear ventricles apart.

Careless words thrown like litter that were meant for the heart.

Interrogations in classrooms. Speak your mind; put up defenses.

Plastic overpriced happiness and Hollywood tears.

I know what the Aging Earth hears.

I know what the Aging Earth said.

She did not cry for help, or grind of teeth sheathed in concrete.

She speaks slower than stone, at our pace no one hears.

Who would wait to make sense of it? One word per one thousand years.

All she does is wait and listen, while history does repeat.

I have heard her whispers, someday she will be dead.

I know what the Aging Earth said.

grand poem? HECK YES. I love maddey and her writings!! woo!

ugh. I'm done. >.>

(PS: try to refrain from pointing out my recent discovery of the color, Hot Pink. )

Description
MAN. this looked so much more awesome in my head than it turned out. PLUS, the scanner totally screwed around with the already yucky colors. ARRRG. Well, either way, I like fetuses. and drawing them. the fetal position is funnn.

this took me about 20 minutes to draw. and 25 minutes to paint. it shows. blehg.

fullview? yes.

OH by the way, that poem that's on there? I DID NOT WRITE IT. my besssst friend maddey wrote it. here's the whole thing:

I know how the Aging Earth feels

By Maddey Gates

I know what the Aging Earth feels.

Morning's mother-like hand waking her with the first touch of light.

The soft tickle of mountains like seeds sprinkled over her face.

The cool lakes like joyful teardrops and the forest's embrace.

When the first footsteps echo as thunder, and splits through the night.

He breaks branches like fingers, levels mountains for fields.

I know how the Aging Earth feels.

I know what the Aging Earth sees.

Cities tumble into warfare, mountains crumble to hate.

Children whip themselves to be who they see through stony eyes.

Starving tongues stretch upwards; taste what's left of our skies.

Something said is taken as a challenge, never friendly debate.

When hungry men unbuckle belts and little girls get to their knees.

I know what the Aging Earth sees.

I know what the Aging Earth hears.

Whispers like daggers thrown over continents and fences.

Notes like bullets meant to tear ventricles apart.

Careless words thrown like litter that were meant for the heart.

Interrogations in classrooms. Speak your mind; put up defenses.

Plastic overpriced happiness and Hollywood tears.

I know what the Aging Earth hears.

I know what the Aging Earth said.

She did not cry for help, or grind of teeth sheathed in concrete.

She speaks slower than stone, at our pace no one hears.

Who would wait to make sense of it? One word per one thousand years.

All she does is wait and listen, while history does repeat.

I have heard her whispers, someday she will be dead.

I know what the Aging Earth said.

grand poem? HECK YES. I love maddey and her writings!! woo!

ugh. I'm done. >.>

(PS: try to refrain from pointing out my recent discovery of the color, Hot Pink. )