my self

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DEATH
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my self

Postby DEATH » Tue Jul 01, 2014 2:21 am

My name means the four elements those elements in which i master through out the world to find those would be like finding a needle in a hay stack, for there are so many i master in ,i just meed life to guide me to those four perfections form the imperfections.two of them are writing and computers.
I see myself as a leather book and as I have come to believe, will never run out of pages. It has remained half-full and half-anxious through is love, heartbreak, torment, achievement, and most importantly, hours amounting to years of growth.
My mind is a song . Where the lightest of the words cut deeper than hell fire.I stand like a freak amongst people and street vents, rushing idiotically scared as hell with my mind under lock and key .writing dancing and singing are the key to my mind.I write,speak,move to free myself. My mind uncoils with emotions that spill out onto the paper and performances , and they will remain there until the dust of future years rolls them off the surface.
I am like a rock, whose crisp and beautifully frayed edges are filled with my personal statments expressed in the due of life. It is like the world grows stronger and darker around me and the emptiness ,the void it just grows bigger and bigger and bigger .my void to find the light grows bigger than ever. It is in the void that my elbows and fingertips steadily rust, realising that the world does not see me , that the only way out was to make the people see. So i created a name under which people see me for who i am ,not who i pretend to be. a name under which people like me can become visible/free.
I keep my soul inside and in a constant process of flowing outward into my hand and filling back up inside my mind.the name i created does not only write .it sings, dances to express its feelings ,It is in myself-reliant philosophy that we live engrained in heartbreak and grow in reconciliation.

I was never inspired to study at an early age and have been feeding on a dark void, loss, or absence in my life, taking on and breaking out, the words that were embedded in the looking glass. Words have come to mean so much to me. Words are to me what paint, pastels, or tiles, are to an artist. I see every word uniquely and in a different light each time I encounter it.these words have cut me deeper than the sharpest swords.they might be the dumbest persons in life but there words cut me deeper ,they bring me to a new light. My reality lies in my heart, in human growth, in love, in heartbreak. My works are based on my personal experiences, my personal growth. I am the wonder in the world and the space between my hands. Every day brings new words.every day is like a fight to help to find the love. The struggles, the blessings, and the memories all spell out the words which beautifully crowd my inner self.
Every onrush is brought on by new hopes, new dreams, new tears, and new encounters.every sadness is brought on by the unfairness of life The life I live on paper and stage is above the human head. It is steps above physicality. My words are not observant words. They are foreign to the mind, but familiar to the heart. They are familiar when on their own, together, and in a poem.

The dictionary may be the greatest of all human resources, but it cannot break into our souls. Our souls empower the music, the love. Every song , every dance ,every word is a self-reflection, a written soul. I wrote a letter to myself and kept it in a romance novel. I called this song a biography. The paragraphs and the pages, though lovely and sometimes enchanting, can sometimes amount to less in feeling than a few horizontal lines of beautiful words and elegant phrasing. We are all unique on paper and stage.we are unique in style in words in movements in history .Our syllables are distinctively unlike one another’s. I am a listener who kisses every moment to the last; we are all each other, one another, once again. When it comes down to it, our own words,our own movements,though unique and distinctively ours, are part of a universal language.
The weaving process is what keeps me moving day to day. It keeps me alive inside. It is in the texture of my own skin and the swirl of my hand that I become radiant. It is in the ninety degree angles of each bent knuckle that the rain falls with new rhythm, with new feeling. It is in my own palm, my own nerves, myself.
I write, dance and sing beneath the fresh-smelling leather of my own mind , beginning with a composition in verse and ending with a beautifully woven, style of saying I AM ALIVE.
I bend the world according to my rules in myself there is no one greater than me than my self.i am not those who cannot do anything in life ,i am not those who cannot dream big ,i am those who change The world according to Themselves, i am the person who dreams bigger , i am the person who changes his name and becomes visible.
Under the name Sumair i maybe no body but under the name ********* i am the sensation of life

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