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I've been a naughty boy. A very naughty, little foolish. Big bra. I questioned their love for me, so they locked me in the dungeon. If they took me seriously then maybe a respectable bruise...but not this.
Together they are, always together
Smoke they blow, always smoke
The belt they lift, always leather
They breath to me, I always choke
Their world I'm in, always theirs
Both together, always in pairs
To have an independant, curious mind in my world is an automatic jail sentence. I used my brain. I thought. Outwitted my own wits. It was to be my undoing. Both of them turned on me. One would feed off the others plain ignorance and big-headed realism. A cursed combination for little old me and my feelings and thoughts which question why I exist.
The spiral staircase sends me down down down, Like the best posts
I cannot see the next step, the darkness spins me round
Proud they are, of their hedonism, each parasite attached to their hosts
Why must the silver chalice oppose, their love nest mound
All togther am I, my thoughts of this time will never be found
The last step of the spiral staircase kissed my bare foot sole good luck. I was already bloody and eyelids they were a sweating. As soon as I entered the room at the bottom of the stairs. It all changed. The hope of justice and dreams went out like. The candles blown out my a peaceful ghost. The atmosphere changed and the tension reached black levels. The climax of my punishment was shaking my heart. My insides being shook.
Before one of them kicked me into the middle, I seen a crest of light. From above, it declared hope. A cloud might be up there.
One of their nicotine tar gloves hammered a red switch.
*Shwuuuuuuuuuuuh* (A metal cage descendeds at a speed) *BUROMB* (It lands with a hellish thump and traps me)
Both turned and clambered the stairs. Leaving the darkness to rid my mind of hopeful thoughts. Not much could I move. I wasn't filled that much with hate. But in a percussion instrument kinda way, wishing to the black star at the top of the room, I would be elevated to a higher purpose following these traumatic events.
Beaten badly already I fell into a healing sleep. I dreamt of a white winged horse. It swirled me to the pinnacle of a snowy rock. It healed my wounds, mother.
I was then awoken by their jeers.
GETTIN REALLY BORED NOW
To cut a long story short.....
They said "we are isolating you"
I said "why, what are you representing?"
They said "Religious topics"
I said "Am I representing good stories and poems etc.?"
They said "Yes"
"Oh"
Together they are, always together
Smoke they blow, always smoke
The belt they lift, always leather
They breath to me, I always choke
Their world I'm in, always theirs
Both together, always in pairs
To have an independant, curious mind in my world is an automatic jail sentence. I used my brain. I thought. Outwitted my own wits. It was to be my undoing. Both of them turned on me. One would feed off the others plain ignorance and big-headed realism. A cursed combination for little old me and my feelings and thoughts which question why I exist.
The spiral staircase sends me down down down, Like the best posts
I cannot see the next step, the darkness spins me round
Proud they are, of their hedonism, each parasite attached to their hosts
Why must the silver chalice oppose, their love nest mound
All togther am I, my thoughts of this time will never be found
The last step of the spiral staircase kissed my bare foot sole good luck. I was already bloody and eyelids they were a sweating. As soon as I entered the room at the bottom of the stairs. It all changed. The hope of justice and dreams went out like. The candles blown out my a peaceful ghost. The atmosphere changed and the tension reached black levels. The climax of my punishment was shaking my heart. My insides being shook.
Before one of them kicked me into the middle, I seen a crest of light. From above, it declared hope. A cloud might be up there.
One of their nicotine tar gloves hammered a red switch.
*Shwuuuuuuuuuuuh* (A metal cage descendeds at a speed) *BUROMB* (It lands with a hellish thump and traps me)
Both turned and clambered the stairs. Leaving the darkness to rid my mind of hopeful thoughts. Not much could I move. I wasn't filled that much with hate. But in a percussion instrument kinda way, wishing to the black star at the top of the room, I would be elevated to a higher purpose following these traumatic events.
Beaten badly already I fell into a healing sleep. I dreamt of a white winged horse. It swirled me to the pinnacle of a snowy rock. It healed my wounds, mother.
I was then awoken by their jeers.
GETTIN REALLY BORED NOW
To cut a long story short.....
They said "we are isolating you"
I said "why, what are you representing?"
They said "Religious topics"
I said "Am I representing good stories and poems etc.?"
They said "Yes"
"Oh"
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Well I do work in the sub-conscious, see.
More passion or something.
More passion or something.
Ugh! French ones.
Now there's gonna be some French stuff in my writing.
Sneaky git.
Now there's gonna be some French stuff in my writing.
Sneaky git.
*Hands over story credits*
Keep lé change
Keep lé change
Ju§t Tinkª wrote:
> :¬D
>
> I'm so glad you're on my side FFF.
Always a pleasure.
That's $2.95
> :¬D
>
> I'm so glad you're on my side FFF.
Always a pleasure.
That's $2.95
Fun
There is only one thing that is not pointless in life. And only one thing you need to be happy in life.
:¬D
I'm so glad you're on my side FFF.
I'm so glad you're on my side FFF.
It's purpose it obvious.
It even says so at the end, it's written right down there.
If you're so desperate for a purpose, use your head - use your imagination - and think up one for yourself. Think for yourself, don't always follow the obvious.
Pointlessness is everything, it takes us - leaves us barren to the winds - the creul, bridging winds of change. The painful change, yes, but the everlasting, never ceasing, tornado of life spins silently on its axis.
All you can do is hope - and sing the gentle words of solid ground - hope the whirlpool sets you down, around the place your mind slipped loose.
Pointlessness is everything, and with it: the answer.
It even says so at the end, it's written right down there.
If you're so desperate for a purpose, use your head - use your imagination - and think up one for yourself. Think for yourself, don't always follow the obvious.
Pointlessness is everything, it takes us - leaves us barren to the winds - the creul, bridging winds of change. The painful change, yes, but the everlasting, never ceasing, tornado of life spins silently on its axis.
All you can do is hope - and sing the gentle words of solid ground - hope the whirlpool sets you down, around the place your mind slipped loose.
Pointlessness is everything, and with it: the answer.
I have no problem with it existing, but was interested in disovering its purpose.
So this topic should not exist?
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