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Don't know what to technically call this kind of writing, but I wanted to write it. Hopefully though, you all can get some entertainment out of it as well.
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I listen to you. I hear all of what you say. I understand it. But when I speak, is it me? Or is it her words passing through my lips? Her beautiful cadence speaking of strength and yet melancholy.
You speak to me but you do not know. You know who I am but you do not know who you speak to. I do not mean to be obscure because sometimes, even I don't know.
I've considered who she is. Is there sympathy in her or is she a harsh mistress? Should I allow her to remain or should I seize control? Or am I merely insane? And yet, others who are insane cannot control their irrationality.
She is a being of control. A being of power. Nevertheless, I see her softness. It is hidden away from others. Reserved for those who have truly earned her respect.
Others would straightly agree. That many do not deserve mercy. That many put themselves in their own situations. But I do not conform to this belief. I do not believe in mercilessness.
So I put her off. I keep her in the dark. But then the fire of life comes upon me. The heat of the day comes bearing down. And as I bear it, I begin to feel her influence. Her pure icy blue confidence. And then I become living steel.
I stand on the snowy edges of my imagination then, looking for her, and there she is behind me. I know her well now, though I didn't before. But she tells me I have only known myself. Is she lying or am I becoming her?
I listen to you. I hear all of what you say. I understand it. But when I speak, is it me? Or is it her words passing through my lips? Her beautiful cadence speaking of strength and yet melancholy.
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I listen to you. I hear all of what you say. I understand it. But when I speak, is it me? Or is it her words passing through my lips? Her beautiful cadence speaking of strength and yet melancholy.
You speak to me but you do not know. You know who I am but you do not know who you speak to. I do not mean to be obscure because sometimes, even I don't know.
I've considered who she is. Is there sympathy in her or is she a harsh mistress? Should I allow her to remain or should I seize control? Or am I merely insane? And yet, others who are insane cannot control their irrationality.
She is a being of control. A being of power. Nevertheless, I see her softness. It is hidden away from others. Reserved for those who have truly earned her respect.
Others would straightly agree. That many do not deserve mercy. That many put themselves in their own situations. But I do not conform to this belief. I do not believe in mercilessness.
So I put her off. I keep her in the dark. But then the fire of life comes upon me. The heat of the day comes bearing down. And as I bear it, I begin to feel her influence. Her pure icy blue confidence. And then I become living steel.
I stand on the snowy edges of my imagination then, looking for her, and there she is behind me. I know her well now, though I didn't before. But she tells me I have only known myself. Is she lying or am I becoming her?
I listen to you. I hear all of what you say. I understand it. But when I speak, is it me? Or is it her words passing through my lips? Her beautiful cadence speaking of strength and yet melancholy.