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6:10 p.m. 2003-06-23

You've been spared any inkling of the rage I carry. No one knows about it, no one has heard me scream. You think that I'm neutered, drowned in my own misery and weak pitying pain. But you're wrong. You don't see me, you don't feel me, you aren't a part of me. And you never will be. No one will get inside my mind, no one will understand. You think I am a weak blind thing. My rage could light up your life, my anger could shrivel your soul and leave you hollow. You think I am weak because I conceal the spark.

How can you know me when every word is cold, every phrase past my lips calculated?

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words @ jake, layout @ kelly