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Me, Myself and IThere's a battle in my mind
So fierce my head is spinning.
It's between Me, Myself and I
(And it's Me who's winning).
Me's the scientific one,
An introvert at heart.
She's cold and intellectual
And rips all dreams apart.
Myself is the chatterbox
Who laughs both loud and long.
Although she cares what people think,
She's happy and she's strong.
And I? I is a dreamer,
She's gentle (unlike Me).
Sensitive and thoughtful,
She wanders, quiet and free.
Now Me is beating I up
And shuts her in a cage.
Myself can only try to hide
Me's frigid burning rage.
You see, Me hates I,
But I can't hate anyone.
So Me can scoff at I's dreaming
And lock her far from the sun.
Timid I struggles to show herself,
But all her efforts fall flat;
She can't be heard over Me's curt silence
Or Myself's idle chat.
And so it's Me who rules supreme;
Myself by now has fled,
And I is in the darkest dungeon
In the recess of my head.
You are one of only a few
Who have heard I's cry.
Please don't let Me rule again
What Music Is
The lyrics roll off our tongues like poison,
As we scream together, jump together,
And tonight, just for one night,
We share one heart.
And it beats with the drums,
And it wails with the guitars,
And it sings in tune.
It knows every word
To every song.
I'm surrounded by sweaty, cigarette-scented teenagers who I've never seen, and may Never see again,
But at this moment, she is my sister and he is my brother.
Goosebumps cover our flesh,
Tears sting our eyes,
Our voices crack but we keep singing along,
Those lyrics that saved our lives.
The lyrics that have pulled us up from dark depths of misery,
The lyrics that made us get out of bed in the morning,
The lyrics that made us want to stop what we're doing and just...
We're just kids,
Just kids really,
And all we know for sure is those voices, those guitarists, those drummers,
Create music that makes us feel different, impacts us more boldly,
Than any High-school sweetheart ever could.
It brings chills to our spi
Everybody KnowsI live amongst people who know exactly when they are going to die. They don’t know how and they don’t know where. The circumstances, the cause – these remain a mystery right up until a person’s date comes up. They just know when. Knowing how long you have to live your life has always been the way of my people. Nobody knows any different.
Our death dates are private things, nobody else can find them out unless we let them. Some like to try. Others go out of their way to never know. Our dates are found when we close our eyes. There’s no specific length of time, or time of day. We just shut our eyelids and there it is. Everybody knows that dates appear in Corsica font, picked out from the blackness behind shut lids. When you sleep, it’s there. A constant reminder even though nobody could ever forget seeing those numbers.
You can usually tell when a person’s time is beginning to run out. They start selling off their things,
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More