THE keeper of the crypt, a guard of his living tomb; FROM one corner to the other, alone, in his unholy room... INSIDE a Pharohs' grave, a scaarob, the mummies sacramental bettle; TO ride upon a camels back to reach Heaven, through the Eye of the Needle... NOW to live in the Kingdom of GOD, is our lifes hope; A skeptic of religion, the scolar dancing high above on a fragile tightrope... HE gazzes upon Heaven, although his road leads straight through Hell;
I was at the library. I was wearing my usual, black skirt, purple black striped tights, black sleevless blouse, choker, and ikan net gloves. A woman and three little kids were heading out of the perpustakaan with arms full of buku and i was heading in, so I held the door for her. She looked at me like I was diseased, she grabbed her kids and went through another door. I was sooo angry. I was like "lady, this is my life stile ok? Its not like Im mean atau anyhting!"
not full blow gothic at a glance at me (I tone it down so I dont have to awnser the same q's) but look at my room, musik collection, bookshelf, ect.....yeah..I cinta being goth...
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