Originally Posted by The Revelation

Me? Oh I'm just your average kid living life to the fullest,
With my family of 3 brothers and 3 sisters, I am the 2nd youngest.
My windows are closed and my closet is just neat as can be,
I thought that I lived and breathed in the land of the free?
My clothes are too big and my bed is falling to the floor,
My dog is my alarm clock and beads are my door.
War is nothing but old news since fighting between forces is normal,
I just stay in my room and look into magazines full of models.
My brother waddles into my room, I scream and tell him to leave,
I throw something at him but he just continues being naive.
I wear low cut shirts and short shorts to blend in with my crowd,
I don't listen to the music, I just like to dance and for it to be loud.
I hate being here, I wish that I could just go fly out my window,
But everyday I just sit here, looking at the same American Express symbol.

I am myself, I won't and don't bend to a crowd of strangers,
I wear polka dot pants, Yankees shirt, and a hat for the Rangers.
It don't mean a thing if it don't got that swing,
Diiirty pop, this must be pop. I love Backstreet Boys and Nsync.
I listen to people talk about bling and remember the times where nothing mattered,
There wasn't "flirting" just saying compliments and saying "I'm flattered".
People stare and I act like I don't care, but I do deep inside my chest,
What's left of that fire that once burned and gave me a breath.
Tattered clothes are fine, I'll wear them if I'm comfortable,
I use words like fiddlesticks, vibe, cats, gats, and shizzle.
I stay hip the lingo, but I still enjoy my game of bingo,
Oh if only people said how the felt maybe the world would be easier to live in,
Instead of being stared as if I took back something I had given.

I give a little take a little, you push me and I'll push back,
I'll listen to your country if you will listen to something I can rap.
Backpacks are ok if you are 12 years old and trying to look cool,
School is only for those who don't want to end up looking like fools.
I live for the moment, that will define my home in
Somewhere out where a great city and Rome has been.
When something amazing happens in an instant,
I act like I missed it and keep on life as I was living it.
Sometimes I wish that I could, just go home and cry out,
I WANT SOMETHING MORE! But I am not one to shout.
I take no risks and my life is kinda boring but I keep on going,
Showing people how safe I am and that I can be giving.
Living in this world, isn't always for me,
Wish they had mentioned love and life, but no one cared to warn me.

What do these people have in common? They are all something in you,
You do what people say sometimes and sometimes feel like saying fuck you too.
There are times people want to be different or want to be safe in their bubble,
Rubble all around them, and wish to sing a praise when there's trouble.
The key to success is balance, and how to avoid needing to lie,
Not making the personalities separate, I mean why....
Do we need to act to please people when really we all try,
To live this lie and deny, that in everyone exists a Me, Myself, and I.

Originally Posted by Paroxysm

My patient’s name is Luis Nigel…they say he’s suicidle
Mental state has moved to vital and some days it loops in spirals
He’s stays confused and idle, and takes his food to Michael
A made up dude who tries to come and save Lu through the bible
See his vagrant views entitled me to strain this dudes revival
So I made this new recital up to grade what Luis might do
A basic ruling cycle that can change the mood of psychos
It’s a safe and fluent viral medication used on primals…

:: Day 1 ::

It’s the day of Lu’s arrival…he walked into the door
With a calm demented form that gave a taunting glimpse of war
The posture of a boar, that’s when thoughts began to soar
And suddenly I felt discomfort and my conscience hit the floor
This never bothered me before, but this person had me frieghtened
Cause the words that he recited made me nervous but excited
He referred me to the night when he was murdered by a knife and
He returned to life cause jesus sent to him a burst of lightning
But the worst inside him soon was bout to show it’s ugly face
He told me stuff was based on reason but he knows this was a waist
Supposedly he must’ve changed and in the flow adjusted fate
Cause he said that night that he got stabbed the moment was just great
I wanna go the fuck away doc, I hate it on this earth
Im a baby with a curse, and every day I wanna blurt
A display of words to hurt your feelings see my rage it works
But when I try to kill myself well, it’s like my brain exerts
A force to save my shirt, I don’t have control at all
It’s like that moment of achievement but bereavement holds applause
When I sleep my soul is calm, and my dreams uphold a pause
From this frequent hole of wrongs when you make me read through psalms
I need to mow my lawn, sorry doctor I’ll be leaving
And I’ll see you in the morning, and well, possibly this evening
We can talk about you dreaming, and the thoughts that you believe in
Until then, I’ll be here, and just pondering your reasons

:: later that night ::

my patient’s really out of place, tonight im at my house and wait
to hear from Luis the anticipation feels my mouth with haste
in front of the couch I pace, while gaining an ounce of rage
I sit down and take, a deep breath, cause im about to break
Sounds escape, it gets quiet, then I hear luis speaking
walking in the room screaming, that he’s found a new reason
that he should stay alive, claiming that he knew jesus
and that he and Michael been at the jungle gym mood swinging
dude’s dreaming, what he told me…would make a normal person flip
his words were sick enough to make me loose encouragement
he blurted this: Michael ima kill you: quite disturbed a bit
I asked him why’d he killed me if I only helped him work through this
His nervousness, drove his urge to get the kitchen knife and stab
Screaming fight me back I hit him with a death defying jab
With my breath inside a bag, I just fell to hyper-react
Then I felt the fire pass throgh me my health denied and crashed

:: dear journal ::

Now me myself and pad, write my last journal entry
Im skitzophrenic, suicidal, and I let my words defend me
I am Michael Luis Nigel, and as Michaels, terms are friendly
But when Luis I just loose it, and this time “I turned against me”