How far does a person have to hurt until they can't take it anymore? What methods of torture can we use to inflict all the pain in the world on a person? When we do inflict these methods of torture, will we finally feel a sense of retribution? I feel like Christ Walking through the city and carrying a cross on my back I can try to say it was my fault At least, that is what others insist on telling me That I was "selfish" and "only thinking of myself" Oblivious and unawares of all the other insults they threw at my face The truth is, however, that I can look back to how empty I feel inside Then I am not so sure anymore If it was my fault or theirs See I can feel the feelings of the entire Planet From this sensitivity, I can surely mistake that there is some sort of flaw in my own emotionality Only then I can also see the criticisms of everyone else Realizing just how true and how potent these feelings are for some people Then I am not certain anym...
CHAPTER ONE - THE BOY WHO LIVED Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of Privet Drive were the last people to be involved in anything strange or mysterious. Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, and a large mustache. Mrs Dursley was thin, blonde, and had twice as much neck for spying on neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son named Dudley - the “finest” boy around. The Dursleys also had a secret, and they were afraid someone would discover it. They couldn’t bear it if someone found out about Petunia’s sister’s family - The Potters. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, and they did not want Dudley associating with a child like that. It was a peculiar morning. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out a tie for work, while Mrs. Dursley gossiped away as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair. None of them noticed the large, tawny owl flutter past the window. Mr. Dursley go...
Hello Do you see me? I come from another planet I run on a higher frequency You can see wings protruding from me I don't walk on the ground I am hovering Separated from you and your world Invisible and silent As unassuming as these white walls The world is so fragile At any point it can fall apart For the weak You can touch me if you'd like You would see that I am real Please smile and say hello I am dying to meet you The monsters have a rope around my throat They snarl in my ear and they won't let go They walk around Chatting and laughing You will eat me if I get too close
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