but well they killed the rebel a long time down. Go to the second left
downhill and the sixth grave to the right is mine.
He flashed a picture with words gleaming in white ' Here lies the rebel' with his name under it on a dirty tombstone.
What kinda man would get get a grave done for himself while he still lives. I guess thats when the psychosis started to get onto me.
'Im not what the call me, i will never be what they dont think i am. The very misunderstood intellect is the reason. THey believe in other's coining fantasies to be philosophies. killed whoever i am, my innocence my desires, my love.
They happy livin in a famished and underdosed world.I make my remarks and some relate to it. hope it works for some, it doesnt quite matter if it doesnt.
They took everything i wanted to flaunt and they took my desire to get anymore. I live for myself which is a nice thing to do.They can call it philosphy or psychotic belief.
They might find what i explore to be some kind of terra incognita.But well its all all around them. My friend used to say this...lost him too...my self indulgence made me lose people i didnt want to. I live with guilt, fear, remorse, vengence and a few words to express em.'
My pen twitched on the paper trying hard to scribble it down but his tone kept getting hoarse and and tempestuous. that i remember as the time i wish i cud run away...as fast as i could...
They want answers to some nescient questions. THey have the answers and they DONT WANT TO UNDERSTAND THEM.
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