Monday, January 23, 2006

I Sit Alone

"I sit alone"

Smiles you always see, but they are not real You think that I am happy, but I never am.
You all have friends, ones who are special, I know people, but they don't know me,
they know the facade I sit and wonder, does anyone know?
Does anyone know how I feel inside
Can anyone see the pain I hide?
I sit alone,
I watch you with your friends and families.
And I wonder, what is it like?
You talk to me and I talk to you,
but none of it means anything.
We all go home, and once again I am alone.
Do you know that I am alone?
Do you think that I go home and am not alone?
Do you even care?
You all think that I am happy, no concerns in the world.
I wish this were true.
I have no one.
No one to talk to.
No one to sit and laugh with.
I sit alone.
Won't anyone help me?
Won't anyone come and break this loneliness?
Break the silence of my life?
I don't know what to do, where to go.
I just don't want to be alone.
No more.

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Tuesday, January 3, 2006

Just Hold Me

Just hold me

Not many have ever known
and if I tell - who would believe?
There's nothing I can call my own
not even the things I have achieved.

It's always better that way
All that is aching inside
It's better for it to stay -
covered up with hurt's pride.

All in good time
I will open the gate
of this little heart of mine
in a moment of fate.

For a soul that's been torn and
a heart controlled by other
there's not much you can do
But to hold me me in your arms -
my dearest Mother.


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Warped & Twisted

Warped & Twisted
by Skittles
Harsh words & violent blows
Hidden secrets nobody knows
Eyes are open, hands are fisted
Deep inside I'm warped & twisted
So many tricks & so many lies
Too many whens & too many whys
Nobody's special, nobody's gifted
I'm just me, warped & twisted
Sleeping awake & choking on a dream
Listening loudly to a silent scream
Call my mind, the number's unlisted
Lost in someone so warped & twisted
On my knees, alive but dead
Look at the invisible blood I've bled
I'm not gone, my mind has drifted
Don't expect much, I'm warped & twisted
Burnt out, wasted, empty, & hollow
Today's just yesterday's tomorrow
The sun died out, the ashes sifted
I'm still here, warped & twisted

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Am I Alone?

Am I Alone?
by Megan Hance
I get a funny feeling,
it comes from deep inside.
I get all mad and angry,
wanting to go and hide.

My doctor calls it depression,
my dad says it's just me.
But the thoughts and feelings,
no one will ever be able to see.

Some say I'm psycho,
some say I'm just weird.
It's like I'm a different person,
and the old me just disappeared.

I get really edgy,
I want to commit suicide real bad.
Then I get a headache,
followed by feeling sad.

I wish I could get help,
I wish it would go away.
Maybe if I keep praying real hard,
it will some day.

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Where to Bury a Dog

Where to Bury a Dog
This piece by Ben Hur Lampman originally appeared in The Oregonian.

A subscriber of the Ontario (Oregon) Argus has written to the editor of that fine weekly, propounding a certain question, which, so far as we know, remains unanswered: "Where shall I bury my dog?" It is asked in advance of death. The Oregonian trusts the Argus will not be offended if this newspaper undertakes an answer, for surely such a question merits a reply. It distresses (the writer) to think of his favorite as dishonored in death, mere carrion to the winter rains. Within that sloping, canine skull, he must reflect when the dog is dead, were thoughts that dignified the dog and honored the master. The hand of the master and of the friend stroked often in affection this rough, pathetic husk that was a dog.

We would say to the Ontario man that there are various places in which a dog may be buried. We are thinking now of a setter, whose coat was flame in the sunshine, and who, so far as we are aware, never entertained a mean or an unworthy thought. This setter is buried beneath a cherry tree, under four feet of garden loam, and at its proper season the cherry strews petals on the green lawn of his grave. Beneath a cherry tree, or an apple, or any flowering shrub is an excellent place to bury a good dog. Beneath such trees, such shrubs, he slept in the drowsy summer, or gnawed at a flavorous bone, or lifted his head to challenge some intruder. These are good places in life or in death. Yet it is a small matter, and it touches sentiment more than anything else. For if the dog be well remembered, if sometimes he leaps through your dreams actual as in life, eyes kindling, questing, asking, laughing, begging, it matters not at all where that dog sleeps at long and at last. On a hill where the wind is unrebuked, and the trees are roaring, or beside a stream he knew in puppyhood, or somewhere in the flatness of a pasture lane where most exhilarating cattle graze, it is all one to the dog, and all one to you, and nothing is gained, nothing is lost, if memory lives. But there is one best place to bury a dog. One place that is best of all.

If you bury him in this spot, the secret of which you must already have, he will come to you when you call - come to you over the grim, dim frontiers of death and down the well remembered path and to your side again. And though you call a dozen living dogs to heel they shall not growl at him, or resent his coming, for he is yours and belongs there. People may scoff at you, who see no lightest blade of grass bent by his footfall, who hear no whimper pitched too fine for mere audition, people who may never really have had a dog. Smile at them, for you shall know something that is hidden from them, and which is well worth the knowing. The one best place to bury a good dog is the heart of his master.

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