Untitled, and Unfinished.

I'm sitting in class, not really paying much attention to anything, the teacher's high, whiny voice was somewhere in the background. I keep my eyes down, the ice blue eyes that had given me my so fondly adorned nickname, Buzzard. No one knows my real name, I mean, with a name like Elizabeth Anne, who would want anyone to know? Right? Exactly. Anyway. Buzzard is an odd nickname for anyone, much less a girl, but no one really seemed to care, it's not like anyone ever calls out to me anyway. So i'm just sitting here, waiting for the last bell to ring, so I can fix my spikey black and red hair, reapply my eyeliner, black, and thick, and change my clothes. I've never been one to care what I look like, or wear. I wear what's me. But tonight was different. Tonight was special. I was going to see Final Warning, my favorite band. A band my best friend Dakota started, and I had helped get going. I write more than half the lyrics, so I already know them. And I can be the only one to scream the new songs, right along with the band.