Wow.

first off:
Fuck you. Just FUCK YOU. Listen joker, I don't have the slightest bit of time for people who try and use scare tactics against me. I don't want to see your fucking doctor picture and I sure as hell won't be going to your fucking blog. Playing off an already scared girls legitimate phobia is just fucking sick. I don't expect to see you posting here again.

God. Fuck that picture. Anyway, on with the show.

I just now remembered to look at the comments section of the post before this one. I'm sorry to say I missed Zeke. I've trying to stay away from the others but this is getting out of control. I guess I'll do some snooping around, reading what I can. I'm just.... I'm done. I'm not staying in the dark about this.

But gods I'm scared. And I still don't know if I should pick up that camera or not. But I suppose I'll show you the pictures, tomorrow perhaps.

A darkened rainbow
A featureless face
A change in flow
A change in pace

Let's see what we might unfold
Of a tale yet untold

God. Ii don't rememmber that poem.......I have things i Need to tell you but I'm shaking too much type right now..

Why?

Why, why the fuck did you mention it? The, well, the 'messages' in the poems. God damn I was hoping, praying even that no one would notice, you know?

I've never really been a poet. Never been good at it, but the poems just kinda flowed out of me, after posting I'd read them and I'd notice certain things. Messages, odd things. They scare me.

I didn't want to acknowledge them. I didn't want to. I didn't want to. But it's there now. The secrets I don't intend, odd words, they mock me. I know them.

The poems were just a joke to me, at first. But the nightmares the pictures, the horrible things. The whispers, the drawings. It's scaring me. I can't handle it, will it stop?

Please help. I don't feel well.

No more poems.

OW.

I am headache filled and generally ache filled and not feeling well =C I was supposed to go to Silverwood today but my head exploded. -.-

Unhappy. Just a quick update I guess. I mus crawl back into bed now.

No poem or color because everything sucks.