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Literature Text
Tick tock, tick tock
The sound of the clock
Above my bed
In my head
It doesn’t go away
I’m cruelly aware
The world is unfair
Time runs away from us
Most don’t see the fuss
But it never stops
The clock forever ticking
High heels forever clicking
It all just passes by
Nobody ever asks why
It goes so fast
In the blink of an eye
The time has just flown by
And this is the worst part
Stepping into the dark
Because it’s coming
People go about their days
In a hundred thousand ways
But they never stop to think
That they might be on the brink
Of forever
So tick tock, tick tock
Pay attention to the clock
Don’t let little things in the way
Instead think of how you can stay
In memory
The sound of the clock
Above my bed
In my head
It doesn’t go away
I’m cruelly aware
The world is unfair
Time runs away from us
Most don’t see the fuss
But it never stops
The clock forever ticking
High heels forever clicking
It all just passes by
Nobody ever asks why
It goes so fast
In the blink of an eye
The time has just flown by
And this is the worst part
Stepping into the dark
Because it’s coming
People go about their days
In a hundred thousand ways
But they never stop to think
That they might be on the brink
Of forever
So tick tock, tick tock
Pay attention to the clock
Don’t let little things in the way
Instead think of how you can stay
In memory
Literature
Little Lion
Little lion, you've finally been found
Free of the blood with which you've been bound
Escaped from the tower, eluded the hounds
and now you've managed to make a sound
Literature
When I was a child, I was afraid of ...
When I was a child, I was afraid of walking home alone in the dark. In the winters, especially, just walking home from school was something that truly terrified me. It terrified me, as I was a child with a great imagination. Not seeing what was around me in the woods I would have to walk through to get home only made it worse. Because even when I couldn’t see, I could still hear and I could still feel. I could hear every little noise that was created by something out there. I heard the wind rustling the trees, the crunching of snow under my boots, and that godforsaken rumbling and rustling I would never know the origin of.
During my lo
Literature
Depression Awareness
Because apparently this week has been Depression Awareness week, I thought I would share something.
Everyone who knows me knows that I love to share anecdotal stories about life. Not just my life, but stories I in which I may have played a small role or even only witnessed. They can be funny or serious, casual observations or emotionally charged. There are literally millions of stories which make up all of our lives. I just happen to enjoy sharing some of the ones that make up mine.
A number of years ago, I sliced my wrist open on a piece of broken Pyrex at work. Yes, it was an accident. I spent over six hours at the hospital, had plas
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