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Why Me?Why Me?
Why is it that they pick me last?
Why is it that every time something good happens Something bad follows?
Why can't I ever catch a break?
What are these feelings?
Why does everything that comes to mind refer to my only way out?
Why do I have these feelings?
Why is it that I feel alone?
Why is it that no one is there?
Why hasn't anyone been there?
Why am I alone?
Why Can't anyone help me?
Why don't they understand?
Why Can't I be me?
Who controls life?
Why can't I be special?
Where Is God?
Where are the angels?
Why can't they be with me?
I AloneI Alone:
I Alone understand who I am
I Alone understand what it is to be me
I Alone understand that I can only do what I am capable of.
I Alone understand that I can't be changed
I Alone know who I am
I Alone know who my friends are
I Alone know what people say about me
I Alone know what they really mean
I Alone think I can
I Alone think I can't
I Alone think I am
I Alone think I'm not
I Alone Understand The consequences
I Alone know why
I Alone think I can handle it.
Only One Knows I Can't
But That Isn't Me
Random Story: UntitledThe car was still running, but not going anywhere. I looked down at the clock on the dashboard. 12:30 PM. I sat, in the parking lot, across from a house that I had visited more times than I could remember. I wasn't sure I should do what I had intended to do when I drove here. There was a good chance that she didn't live there anymore. There was an even better chance that she had already forgotten about me.
I guess I should back up. Explain what happened, before I continue on to what I am doing. My story is a long and complicated one, so I will just say the basics.
My name is I.T. 3rd Class Jessica Sanders. I am currently on leave before going to my first duty station in Korea. I had joined the United States Navy, a month after graduating college with my Associates Degree, and I had just gotten done with Boot Camp and Advanced 'A' School. I wanted to make something right before I left. The house I am currently staring at is a house that I had visited a lot in high school, as its younges
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More