FANTASTICWOUNDS's Journal

Some hope, and some despair Resting on your shoulder. And it laughs in your face.

the printed word might kill you,  The whispering, May hurt you.  Who am I that I come to be here...?

Just the bad things, oh...There must be something
Horribly wrong with me ?

The sanest days are mad  Everyone's oh so quick with advice. Cruel imagination is still giving me pain.  Sometimes I ricochet from the past
And at times the Future. Freaked out and forgot to keep the world at an arm's length.