To cry...means to reamin yourself...remain whole,
For if you don't...every once and a while...you'll lose part of your soul.

My friends are the type of friends that get run over by parked cars.

My friends are the type of friends who get high off of caffine.

My friends are the type of friends who when consulted by a ghost say "What are you doing out of your grave Grannie?"

My friends are the type of friends who if asked to pick your poison they'll point at me.

To paint a bright perfect picture, you have to use dark, imperfect paints.

You may call me deaf,
You may call me blind,
But I'm protecting your freedom,
And dying for mankind.

Dedicated to my Uncle in Iraq and all the others. God Bless.

Show me a hero and I'll show you a tragedy.

I may be weak and striving now, but just wait till I am perfect as can be and won't show you how.

What will happen to you, my dear, when I am not there to protect you from the world's hate?