Something I wrote in my journal in 2005: I can’t help but wonder in this time of need that if I were forced under, would I even bleed? If I wanted to change you, would I risk to try? But if I wanted to be you, would I risk to lie? There’s not much I can say or do to make you see, but there’s plenty I can do to make flee: I can take a beautiful rose and make it whither or take a harmless snake and make it slither. I’ll make silent rain into shards of ice or make a town engulfed with vice. Tell a child to do a dirty deed or walk away from a friend in need. Don’t you see the game I play? By persuasion I can get what I say. Don’t be deceived from what is true. My real emotions are shown in blue. I have many thoughts that run within my head. Most are blissfully alive then found drained dead. My facts prove one thing, they can be proven wrong. The answers lie in my choir as it sings a dreadfully, un-tuned, glorious song. Love from me is something hard to come across, whereas hurting me