purpose
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By:
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omnicell
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Mood:
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Okay
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Date:
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Jul 02, 2012
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Music:
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None
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What I write is good for me. I don't know if it is good for you. I always get a bit graphic.
I can't sleep at night. And I wont be sleeping at night in a philosophical sense. Not while teenagers hang from the neck in there mothers closets..
It would be so easy for me to have a good life. All Id have to do is have no conscious and become corrupted. To be corrupted is to be in-slaved. I would not have the mind of my own. I would be bought and sold by the highest seller.
A young man( teenager), was in his front lawn yelling at his parents again. Its a nice neighborhood. He was in agony. No one listened to him, or cared what he had to say. They heard him. They heard him perfectly, what the poor boy didn't understand was; " They were his enemies". The people of his household. Everyone looked good on the outside. They were Evil.
One day in the basement of the church I play drums in: someone mentioned the sound of gunshot from the early night of the other morning...
The boy I mentioned in the upper paragraphs had been fighting with his parents in the front yard again. Yelling and screaming for some one to care about him and give him attention. Anyone!. No one cared.. The parents were running him, just as calculating card shark runs a table at the back room of the bar.
This poor kid in a state of fatigue, confusion, and trauma and sadness, in broad day light, calmly walked over to the corner of the side walk of his suburban neighborhood, pulled out a shotGun put it his mouth, and blew off his head into a fine red mist of blood....
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1. This is organized murder: the parents destroyed this person. He was real, asking the parents to be real.. He needed the connection with his family to survive. They, instead, played on this, reversed the roles, and cut him off from further human development. They knew exactly what they were doing. They were grooming him to kill himself. They had a deep hate for this boy because he was the real McCoy.
2. It was cleaned up in few hours, hushed up, and everything went back to quite as if nothing had ever happened. As if the incident never existed. A few hours later, everyones at the church country club social laughing and drinking wine until 9.
3. I will trust the monkeys at the state Pen, much faster then the sociopathic Elite living next to the Golf course at the country club. Who should I fear more, Those that are in the cage, or those that control it. The monkeys, or the zoo keeper.
4. When stories like this come up: no one ever mentioned the parents being murderers. They never mention the sick family system that created this, or the society that created the sick family system. No one mentioned the boys life, the value of it, and what he felt at the last moments of his life. The betrayal by his society, the fact that he will never have any dreams. The sadness that no one anywhere cared that he was dead or alive. No one asks who he was.
Who's crazier!, the parents who killed this boy, or the locals that cover it up. For me, society Is like living around a bunch of sociopaths that drive nice cars and call everyones neighbor while they blot out and plot out jealous assassinations destroying the hopes and dreams of those in there own house holds. . Its insane!!
I live in a society that kills kids randomly for sport. Gods going to have a vicious time with these murdering blokes.
I cannot ignore the cry of children in the night. Is it alright the children die that I live as I wish.
How am I suppose to live here in this place. This monkey Island. HOw!, ITs a f@cking zoo..
This society causes me agitated Anxiety....!!!!!
I write these things to prepare myself for the truth of this existence Im about to be thrown into.... I have to prepare to face the sharks that come in with the waves...
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