rubymarlin
It's a riot. Screaming, running, chaos. It never stops. Everywhere, its all around us. I can't separate the truths from the lies that surround the mass, the horde of group think. It will destroy.
I still don't see why she doesn't see it. I can think. Don't you dare tell me I can't. It is not simple regurgitation, though I am good at that too. Throw me in a ring with any of these people and I will eat them alive. You know it is true. And perhaps that is reason enough for you to dislike me.
To be still is to be silent, or not. I am rarely silent when I am still. Out loud, yes, there are no sounds coming out; but they are coming in. Inside my head there is music, dialogue, an endless array of stories that are playing out and fighting each other for dominance. No, I am never still.
All she could do was sing a song she could relate to. Anything else just fell flat. She could not sing about true love or death because she had never had either. All she could sing about was that immeasurable want. The need to have something, someone, anything.