When each day's a struggle just to go on, from the yellowish dusk, to the mere light of dawn. When each breath is a gift not a right. When each little day a war you fight. Safe and secure in your own mind, but in reality you are intwined. You run but get nowhere, you scream but no sound. You smell your own fear like a warmblooded hound. You stitch up your skin, your wounds you hide, but can you live live when living is a suicide?

Hope you enjoy it. ^.^ Erm.....like the way it sounds....uhh.....actually...just do whatever

1."I come before you, to stand behind you, To tell you something I know nothing about. Admission is free, so pay at the door; Pull up a chair and sit on the floor:

2.Early this morning, late last night, Two dead men rose up to fight. Back to back they faced each other, Drew their swords and shot one 'nother.

3.A stone-deaf sheriff heard the noise, And came and killed those two dead boys. The mute psychotic shrieked in fright, With words of joy at this ghastly sight.

4.Now if you doubt this lie is true? Ask the blind man; he saw it, too."



That is so strange :l But interesting

If you were a color what would be? Yellow like the sun, or green like a pea. Red like the apple in the bowl it lays, or golden and brilliant like the scratchy hays. Blue like the sky so pretty and clear, or pink like the candy most kids hold dear.