I have this splinter in my heart. Cold and sharp, it makes me start. It has no business being there, I wish I could learn not to care. A proper person minds it not, Their woes, once felt, are soon forgot. They brush away their tears and smile, All is forgiven, in a while. But…

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The Piscean Lament

There are two voices in my head,

One speaks white, the other red.

White says, “drink this glass of water,”

Red says, “whiskey would be hotter.”

They chat away, all day and night,

Let’s do wrong, or let’s do right.

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All the world’s a stage – but has the play begun?

Do you ever feel as though your real life hasn’t started yet? As though you are building and building towards a perfect apex, when suddenly everything will click into place and the grey tones of inertia will bloom into vibrant whorls of colour? Many of us, at some point or another, can feel this way. Like life is passing you by, while those around you are already treading the boards and basking in the applause.

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