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Literature Text
I want to go to that place,
The place where the sun shines bright and warm
All day
On the emerald green leaves
Of the forest older than time itself,
Where the trees groan and creak as they grow,
And if you're quiet enough,
You can hear them.
I want to go to that place
Where the wild animals aren't afraid,
And neither are you,
So you sit and talk for a while,
And you both understand.
Where the breeze is gentle,
And the water calm,
And the moss is as soft as the softest down,
Where sleep is sound,
And without nightmares.
I want to go to that place
Where hate and fear die,
And only love exists.
But I can't take you with me,
And I hope you won't hate me for leaving.
The place where the sun shines bright and warm
All day
On the emerald green leaves
Of the forest older than time itself,
Where the trees groan and creak as they grow,
And if you're quiet enough,
You can hear them.
I want to go to that place
Where the wild animals aren't afraid,
And neither are you,
So you sit and talk for a while,
And you both understand.
Where the breeze is gentle,
And the water calm,
And the moss is as soft as the softest down,
Where sleep is sound,
And without nightmares.
I want to go to that place
Where hate and fear die,
And only love exists.
But I can't take you with me,
And I hope you won't hate me for leaving.
Literature
Hitler's Dream
Hitler's Dream
Blonde hair
Blue eyes
I'll create
the perfect race
one free of the flaws
I see every morning in the mirror
Black hair
Brown eyes
stare out emptily
from the glass that never lies
I hate myself, so I'll hate you
make you suffer as I do
if you are not
my perfect face
you'll feel my pain
you'll feel my hate
you'll burn and choke
on my poisoned flames
I'll make you mine
I'll break the mirror
I'll create a mold
of perfect reflections
so I'll never see myself
staring back at me
Literature
I am not my illness.
I am not my illness.
Keira, 16
I've had depression for three years, and I used to hate the way my illness had changed me. I thought I could never be the girl I used to be. But my psychologist helped me to see that my illness can never change the inner me. In the end, I will have changed I will be stronger for this battle but my central values and the things that make me 'me' will always remain the same.
I am not my illness.
Mark, 23
I have schizophrenia. People call me crazy, and avoid me, because I hear voices and talk to them. Maybe I am crazy sometimes, when I have an episode. But I'm not always crazy. I may be schiz
Literature
BPD
She stands alone in her darkness
And hard as I try
I cannot seem to reach her
There is wall of glass between us
That I feel
Has always been there
So I watch her
Liked a sad, silent movie
Adding lines from the depths of my own memory
Dying a little more each time
I try to reach her
I can see her pain
But I cannot hold it in my hands
And she forever remains
As tangilble
As a long forgotten dream
Sweet... and distant..
Suggested Collections
I'm not sure what I can say about this one, really.
But I want to go there someday.
But I want to go there someday.
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