There are a lot of fools everywhere. And where exactly is here?

I can hear many, but not all is clear. Seems that every step has been done before.

So much is pain, that all would just like to hide.

As I write this, someone is trying to come by my attention. It is a tough deal.

"Que es----"

Que es huh, que es vida?

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I claw through the branches, a hell of a ride.

One step wrong and all can perceive, whom you really are.

Is it the help you need, or the attention? Is there a difference?

Headphones on, only though, when no one can see.

Dreaming of nothing, but calloused reality, but perhaps dreams are just that.

I am pushed aside again, shoved more like.

Another day, classes through, and more than that, I just got done, with---

A stranger attempts to break a defense...

Whom, why....

Honesty, deceit?

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I hide behind a lie, which seems to have become a truth.

It is addicting almost, yet it is a wonder, since no one seems happy.

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Found a place to search again, but no one wants to be gone nor win.

Trooping into a hell clasped interior, where demons reside, I find many fears.

Seemingly pain worthy, most are strangely quite simple.

For such intelligent, expressive, powerful beings we humans are, really we are quite weak.

Change is hypocritical, for once you change, you must again.

Forever changing, are you ever anything but a changed mind?

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More talking than usual---

Worry spreads through, I can never think.

I feel a heat spread disease of humiliation.

For one but to question, whom is the true victim.

No one is worthy, for they laugh as to heal.

An evil deal with themselves, perhaps they never will.

It seems they have become more extreme then I ever shall.

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As held once, I remember when there was a chance.

This does nothing but causes more un-needed pain.

A sudden fury of indulgence comes upon me, and I fly.

Fly to the depths of unconciousne-----

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A darkness consumes me, as I travel down lanes of fires.

There is smoke but I choke not at all, ashes are relived, not can I feel.

A dusk of dirt and grime, not that seeing is fitting.

Everything is brilliant, dark and dreary, blown together as if on impulse.

Carrying out the pleasure of pain.

Laughter arises, heavy and strained.

Faces of many I have known....dying, screaming in agony.

Racing away it seems, for the red carries on, with a dawn of blackened desire.

What can I do?

For I have already succeeded.

Their death is mine.

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When I waken, there is a snow storming.

Alone I am, in the dawn of the morning, school meters away.

Surrounded now, by faces, in a room, not outside.

A hospital? A psycho ward? The difference? I am not sure.

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Nothing but a hospital, fainted, so they say.

Those whom were waiting, I hardly knew what to reply.

I know them not.

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Note: This is the start of a story I suppose depending, I know it seems more like a poem

I plan to continue it, not sure how, but something will come out of it. For now though

That is what is that. So....hope it was not too confusing ^_^.