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| If only you knew... |
| Then we'd all be angels, too. And save our souls with the sins of the underworld's view. Crying because we've laughed too hard and killed our children's coo. Can't we melt to the earth and live merrily on with Satan's crew? Poets are marters and all there with us, to tell mother at the end. We're still having fun, never grew up, still play pretend. |
| Society has rejected us, will you? We've taken this haven of faceless creatures where the sky is red, not blue. You can't see us, but we're here, deep in the cracks of your lense. Like shadows scurrying, your words, they will not clense. A disease of horror, your interest isn't welcome, We still live in the basements of your home. -MH |
| Continually rejected by everyone but our own kind, we seek the safe anonymity of an animal's mask. So we come up with shapeless words to hide behind. Sometimes we change. Sometimes, we notice, and sometimes not. Perhaps documentation is nessessary to tell... This is me. |
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| Was it better to hide? Do I consider it lying? Is it a bad thing, though? Shouldn't I just be myself and have them like me for that person? If you had the choice to go out as yourself, or as anything you wanted, which would you choose? I thought so. |
| Temporarily Absent March Hare's soul is in current posession of Michele Ing. |
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| Poetry Upon Request |
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| Current Obsession: The Weasly twins from Harry Potter! ^V^ |
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