(no subject)
there will be one day when I have nothing left, that will be a day people wont forget. I've been ignored and pushed over and trampled by others far too long. The day will come when I take back everything that has been taken away over the years. Im the kid people dont know exists, who they've known for years on end and still dont even know my name. But there will be the day, when I finally come to fix everything. I will avenge for what wrong came with the deaths of Charlene and Emma. I will make him feel the pain and suffering, he's turned my life into, I will make him see the visions that made her gouge her own eyes out. I will make him hear the very smae screams that drove Illijah to insanity and eventually death. I will make him feel the agony he's put me through. Then, I will savor the moment he reaches his bitter slumber. Then, while in my pool of dismay, I will whisper a single word to the only one I truely love, "remember"
if you are not one of the privelledged few who know what im talking about without it being said, you probably shouldnt be here.
no one ever seems to understand this, so I thought I'd post it on here and see if anyone besides me gets it
Stopping by woods on a snowy evening by: Robert Frost
Who's woods these are I think I know
his house in the village though,
he will not see me stopping here
to see his woods fill up with snow. . ..
my little horse must think it queer
to stop without a farmhouse near
between the woods and frozen lake
the darkest evening of the year. . .
he gives his harness bells a shake
to see if there is some mistake
the only other sound's the sweep
of easy wind and downy flake. . .
these woods are lovely, dark, and deep
but I have promises I intend to keep
and miles to go before I sleep,
yes, miles to go before I sleep
if you are not one of the privelledged few who know what im talking about without it being said, you probably shouldnt be here.
no one ever seems to understand this, so I thought I'd post it on here and see if anyone besides me gets it
Stopping by woods on a snowy evening by: Robert Frost
Who's woods these are I think I know
his house in the village though,
he will not see me stopping here
to see his woods fill up with snow. . ..
my little horse must think it queer
to stop without a farmhouse near
between the woods and frozen lake
the darkest evening of the year. . .
he gives his harness bells a shake
to see if there is some mistake
the only other sound's the sweep
of easy wind and downy flake. . .
these woods are lovely, dark, and deep
but I have promises I intend to keep
and miles to go before I sleep,
yes, miles to go before I sleep