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Robb Aug 2013
See the sadness in my eye, if you took the time to look
But most people believe the lie, sinker line and hook
Embarresed to talk bout the feelings in my mind
So I internalize it all, get used to it in time
But the darkness never fades, it is always on the edge
Looking at these lines, that are dropping A from read
The scars will never disappear, remind me of my past
Even though I have moved on from that, fear that they aren't last
Still plague me in my dreams, wether waking or asleep
So I try to ignore the demons creeping out of me
They escape in time alone, but surrounded I'm no better
Short sleeves it's apparent, kinda like my scarlet letter
D for depression or M misunderstood
People say they're here to help, but tell me how you could
Do you get the pain I live with? Is it something you understand?
Do you lay awake at night, with a razor grasped in hand?
Does your arm run red, when the worlds too much to bear?
Or do you have another means to get you out your head?

So don't tell me you get it, sympathy for me's no good
Rather when you see me with my headphones on and hood
Don't tell me that it's nothing and don't think that you know better
Cause chances are there's reason behind wearin long sleeved sweaters
I don't mean to be scarin kids or give the wrong impression
It's just the more you know, the more you'll understand depression

It's sad how no one gets it, get judges it's so offensive
Like an expletive instead of answering a question
It's me, my scars my life
Not you, your kid your wife
Your ******* a bit too tight
Try to loosen up inside
Cause it's not your life that's ******
Not your problem you're in luck
Never wish this **** on anybody, no ifs ands or buts
Tormented by day, live with terror in the night
Cause the shade envelopes me no matter how I fight
Just gave up, my wall collapsed
Defenses didn't last
So I caved in let the darkness have a blast
Say it's just phase, **** I wish that **** were true
But it disappears then returners stronger in a day or two
The numbness creeps up higher, reaching for my brain
Then finally it's became part of every nerve and vein
Encompasses my body and it takes over control
Until the days fade together, looking like a blur
This is not a joke, you just probably don't know
Ive been dealin with this it's begun to take a toll

So don't tell me you get it, sympathy for me's no good
Rather when you see me with my headphones on and hood
Don't tell me that it's nothing and don't think that you know better
Cause chances are there's reason behind wearin long sleeved sweaters
I don't mean to be scarin kids or give the wrong impression
It's just the more you know, the more you'll understand depression

I get so **** frustrated when I hear these people hate
About how weird those scars look, they don't take a second or wait
Try to figure out the meaning, or the reasoning behind
All the anger or the sadness that could cause the kind of drive
That would force the decision to drag across your skin
A razor or a knife or a lit cigarette end
But to me that **** means something that to you it never could
Because livin it myself has brought me closer to
The truth that lies beyond what these people have forgot
It's not your place to judge anyone who's cut
Cause chances are your wrong, and you probably make worse
Cause from experience that won't make them think first
It's just another reason to be done with your surroundings
To disappear inside and become hard as granite
To live to die to choose
Some alleviate with *****
While others turn to pills or *** to get them out the mood

So don't tell me you get it, sympathy for me's no good
Rather when you see me with my headphones on and hood
Don't tell me that it's nothing and don't think that you know better
Cause chances are there's reason behind wearin long sleeved sweaters
I don't mean to be scarin kids or give the wrong impression
It's just the more you know, the more you'll understand depression
Song lyrics
judy smith Feb 2017
It’s an annual tradition that London Fashion Week opens every February with the newest of the new—the bang-fizz of The Central Saint Martins’s M.A. graduation show. These are the people who are destined to shape the fashion world—not least because they are talents gathered from everywhere. The class of 2017 has students from China, Taiwan, Bulgaria, Slovenia, Gibraltar, and the United States as well as Britain. This is just normal in London, a city that has built its reputation as a creative capital on the strength of talents from all over: all backgrounds, all nationalities. In the face of Brexit, and its possible future curb on immigration, London has its Muslim mayor Sadiq Khan, the city’s elected representative, who stands up for the vitality of diversity and interfaith harmony every day with his social media campaign from City Hall, #Londonisopen. In his words: “We don’t simply tolerate each other’s differences, we celebrate them. Many people from all over the globe live and work here, contributing to every aspect of life in our city.”

Nowhere will that be better demonstrated than in what’s to come in London Fashion Week. In defiance of dark times, its youth and multicultural camaraderie is about to roll out the welcome mat. Expect to see it coming from all directions, in kaleidoscopic variety. On the Central Saint Martins’s runway, there’s Gabriella Sardena’s wildly decorative glam-femme collection to look forward to, for example (she’s the one from Gibraltar). Day one, there’s also the opening of The International Fashion Showcase at Somerset House, where emerging designers from 26 countries, including Ukraine, Russia, Khazakhstan, India, Romania, Czech Republic, Egypt, and Guatemala, will put forward their viewpoints on the theme “Local and Global.”

Stand back for a blast from New York, too. Michael Halpern, one of the latest Central Saint Martins M.A. graduates (class of 2016) will unleash his first multi-sequined disco-fabulous collection in a presentation that is being aided and abetted with volunteer help from Patti Wilson and Sam McKnight, held at a posh venue laid on for free in the heart of St James on Saturday.

Fighting gloom with glitter is a London thing. Ashish Gupta, born in India, longtime London trailblazer for LGBTQ rights, is the king of that. Given last September, when he took his bow in a T-shirt emblazoned IMMIGRANT, admirers will surely be packing his Ashish show to the rafters. These times demand a standing up for pride in identity. Osman Yousefzada, more quietly creative, with his strong art-world following, will be coming out with a statement about his British-Asian roots: “Before, we were rarities, trophies and exotics from distant lands…some of us fleeing famine, war, or persecution,” he writes. “We were thought of as good labourers, businessmen and women—hungry, reliable and eager to succeed…and then some wanted to close the doors. Today, I bring you colour, opulence, texture, tailoring, a modern woman in different hues who isn’t scared to stand out and have fun, and embrace the beauty and difference around her.”

London is open to more newcomers. The Ports 1961 women’s show has relocated here from Milan this season. It’s actually a homecoming of a sort: This collection, placed on a woman-friendly lifestyle-centric wavelength somewhere on the continuum between The Row and Céline, has in fact been designed by the Slovenian-born Natasa Cagalj (also a CSM M.A. alumna) from a studio in London’s Farringdon all along. Two more “returners” to the schedule are Hussein Chalayan and Roland Mouret, long rooted in London since the ’90s, who are repatriating their shows from Paris.

It’s a whole London creative community picture, in fact—one that makes a complete commercial nonsense on every level of the “Little Britain” xenophobia of the send-them-home faction in U.K. politics. Cohesion and creativity, the welcome and support given to the newest, from everywhere—that’s the flag that flies over London Fashion Week. Scotland, Ireland, Greece, Austria, America, Serbia, Canada, Syria, India, Germany, Pakistan, Nigeria, Turkey, Ghana, New Zealand, Portugal—come one, come all, says fashion. There’ll be protest and prettiness, resistance and humor—that’s a given this week. Here’s glitter in your eye!Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Francie Lynch Jul 2023
For decades now
We have serenely, blandly,
Had the Huron horizons
To the North.
All colours of clouds,
Bringing shade or rain,
Snow and flora;
And all the shapes of Noah's zoo,
Morph approaching our soft shores
Of sandcastles and tendered fires,
Those milestone from our youth.
Our fresh waters have given much,
And taken more with wailing
For the never returners.
For mothers with terror splashing
Over  faces and maligned hearts and spirits.
The alone times of punishing memories.
Everything but...

— The End —