Was Peter Pan really a happy boy as he seemed to be?

The Easy Way to Never Land
(please don't kill me for this, it's just a joke, a very morbid joke)

Think of a horrible thought
Any crappy little thought
Think of dying, drink some beers
Think of your run down career
And stick the needle here
You can die, you can die, you can die

Think of depression and fear
Make yourself disappear from here
Think of all the people cry
When you make them realize
Ten stories in the sky
You can die, you can die, you can die

Down you go with a mighty blow
To the asphalt or the ocean blue
There's a Never Land waiting for you
Where all your happy dreams come true...
Every dream that you dream won't come true

When there's a pain in your heart
There's no better time to start
Think of all the joy you'll find
When you leave the world behind
And bid your cares goodbye (good god)
You can die, you can die, you can die, you can die, you can die

I just had the craziest dream, I'm upset now.

As you get older, it seems that normally you cannot remember most dreams you may have. But this morning, I remembered my dream this time! I call it

The Failed Confrontation 

       With Michael Cera

It was a... Monday morning, or maybe it was Tuesday. Wednesday? It was in the quiet little city of Long Beach, a town not to far south from the bustling Los Angeles and the ever so glamorous Hollywood. There lived a young man named Paul Skinner who was struggling between rent, one lousy job, and doing the best he could for his loving girlfriend. He wanted to go rent a movie, either that or go to one specific Blockbuster for no apparent reason. Whatever compelled his decision, there was one problem: there was only one Blockbuster left in Long Beach (actually no, there are SEVEN according to Google Maps) and that was in Bixby Knolls near the Country Club. So, for no apparent reason, he went to that Blockbuster.

View Larger Map
When he got to the Blockbuster, he suddenly had no memory of how he got there, or any other detail prior to that, almost as if the day started inside of a Blockbuster. Whatever the case, Paul immediately became panicked and stressed out for lo and behold from across the video store he thought he saw a famous celebrity, Michael Cera. He actually didn't see anyone, he just felt like he was there in that store even though he didn't see him at all. There was only one thing that Paul wanted from Michael Cera in the heat of the moment. An autograph? NO, not according to the dream. Miraculously Paul instantly printed out notes and links for his music, or he already had them in his pocket. He was going to find him when he realized he forgot to write his name! How could he possibly turn something in with no name on it? He would get an automatic "F". Without already possessing a pen, he asked for one at the front counter. Strangely, they did not have a pen, but they did have a pencil, a short, stubby pencil used for marking scores at a game of golf. Maybe they were doing a survey or something: "Which do you prefer? Going to the store, or shopping online?" He quickly wrote his name and date at the top right of the front paper.

Michael Cera walked up to the cashier, accompanied by a cute and pretty girlfriend in a white frilly tank-top (that's all I remember her wearing... and she was white.) I suppose most people would assume the rumored relationship of Michael and Charlyne Yi, but not in this dream. Paul was about to confront him when he remembered one last thing: he forgot to put MICHAEL CERA's name! If Michael found these notes with Paul's name on it, he would report them lost and try to return them to the original owner. He obviously wanted for him to keep them. Now he was really stressed out and thought Michael Cera saw him. He quickly ran to the other side of the counter, which now made him look like a potential stalker, and wrote Michael's name on the notes. Paul got distracted and wrote someone else's name instead. He hastily scribbled it out and as he noticed they were about to leave, he quickly wrote, "to M CERA." It's best that he kept his first name as an initial because Paul always had a problem with confusing Michael with Micheal since the day he was born, or learned to write, whichever came first. The only option he had left was to run outside and leave his notes near Michael Cera's bike.

When Micheal went outside, he saw Paul there by his bike, crouched down, slipping his notes into the basket of his bike. They were both shocked and embarrassed. Paul thought it better to confront him instead of leaving the notes and running away like a stalker, so they went back inside for no apparent reason. Paul reasoned with him and said,
"I just wanted to show you these notes I had for you and some music I made." He fumbled around and lost all his self confidence when he realized all the notes were messed up and out of order. He tried to spread them out over the table, or counter, but Michael Cera began to ridicule at Paul saying he was being ridiculous and was wasting his time. Paul then began to ask him about his stay in Long Beach and that he lived in Long Beach too.
"It's merely very cool that you are in Long Beach and we could hang out if we wanted to." Again, he refused his fanatic conversation. This made Paul furious, and he came back by saying something like,
"Screw you then, and screw all of your girlfriends," or maybe, "you've had better girlfriends then her," referring to the girl that was with him. For some reason, two of his ex-girl friends just happened to be sitting at the same table (or counter, WTF,) Mary Elizabeth Winstead and who seemed to be either Emma Stone or Ellen Page. What Paul said either made them really mad or really embarrassed, because either way they talked and gossiped amongst themselves. It also made Michael and his girlfriend mad, and they turned to the door.

"Wait, before you go," Paul said before they exited through the door. Michael Cera stopped for a few seconds.
"Would you at least say hi to my girlfriend for me please?" Paul asked calmly and politely. "It's her birthday in a couple of days and I'm kind of broke right now to treat her for her birthday. I'm struggling between paying rent and working a lousy job and the best thing I can get her right now is [THIS PORTION HAS BEEN EDITED OUT FOR PRIVACY REASONS] but I could also give her some birthday [EDITED] even if I'm tired. The point is, it would mean the world to her [actually, she'd just really love it] if you could send her a happy birthday message or something."
This touched Michael Cera in a way that can only make him forget that Paul had ever been an asshole. He said, "Ok, I'll do that for her, and I'm sorry I tried to ignore you." Paul also apologized for being an asshole and he gave him his girlfriend's facebook information, assuming that a well known Hollywood actor would easily pass out his facebook information to wish a common fan a happy birthday. They shook hands and went home to watch their movies. Michael Cera watched Back To The Future and Paul watched Superbad.

THE END

STAR WARS in a nutshell

"Use the force Luke."           >o< =o          ( o   )  

      >o<  -=o     ( o   )  

       >o< --=o    ( o   )  

       >o< ---=o   ( o   )  

         >o< ----=o( o   )  
              >o< --=( o   ) 
       >o<=          ( o   ) 
>o<=-_-            ( x   )  

  "Lightspeed!"          >o<=-_-=      ((((((X)))) 

"BOOM!" ((((((((((X)))))

         . : * :.

                 

THE END

Here Lies Pencil

I miss my pencil.  It was taken from me, not literally, but its soul was taken away.  Its essence.  OK, its pencil lead.  I dropped it, it escaped and ran away from me, into the afterlife, office supply heaven.  Since my pencil had passed away, I had to replace it.  I asked for something to write with, and in return I was given a Starbucks pen.  I had trouble getting along with the pen.  I hate Starbucks.  But after time, I adjusted to the pen and I had to live with it.  Whenever I'd make a mistake, I couldn't fix it.  The pen would only say, "tough shit."  Then I'd have to scribble over the mistake, cover it up, and live out a lie, something I didn't mean to write.  But lying never covered it up.  Past the lie, the mistake is still legible.  I want my pencil.  Unlike my pen, the pencil was more honest and easier to work with.  It was very comfortable to be with and the pressure to the paper showed our passion to write.  Its eraser was soft, but tough, it was like the hand of God erasing my sins.  It is, but what's the use when the pencil is out of use, the pencil, my pencil, is dead.  I want my pencil.  I want to revive its soul.  I would love to be reunited with my pencil again.  I would love to love it again.  I loved my pencil, and I love my pencil.  Please forgive me pencil...

F*ck the eureka, I had a reality check.

Love is hard, love is tough, and love, why would you want to TRY to love when you don't?
I was trying to do that, trying to love again.
Love is strong, but it is completely powerless and pointless when you don't mean it.
Love is honest, and is only meant to be when it is the truth.
I guess that phrase, "love is all that matters," is really true.
Well, not in life, no, other things matter.
But when it comes to love, love IS all that really matters.
Love can't exist unless it's just her and him, him and her, and the whole world passes by as the two are lost in each other, but never want to be found.
Lost, now that's a key word I've been stuck on for quite a while.
But it wasn't fun to be lost the way I was.
I just wanted to find my way out immediately, but I wanted to be found.
Fuck that, I'm hackin' through this garden labyrinth.
You wanna know why?
I'll tell you:
She's the garden, the beautiful garden.
She drags you in with her seductive roses that just seem to stare at you.
At the entrance, she looks so alone, deserted, there seems to be no one in the garden.
So you enter, and so far are constantly amazed by her beauty.
At first it is fun, exciting, and you wish you could stay forever.
But you never get to forever before things all go to hell.
You encounter your first dead end, and you are heart broken.
At that point all you want to do is chop your way out of this garden and go home.
But soon you recuperate yourself and are back on your feet, though you feel a little uneasy.
You start to feel sick, so you try to find your way to the exit.
But she takes you back, the farther you try to get from her, the closer she gets to you.
So you give in and try to find your way to the middle of the garden.
However every direction you take, it ends up leading somewhere else, as if there is a constant bipolar indecision.
This beautiful garden suddenly turns into a confusing maze.
Along the way, you discover other people in the maze, walking around, trying to find the nucleus of this garden of Eden.
After a while, you begin to get really lost, and you don't know what to do.
You are stuck, lost, and just hanging, not sure what to do.
Then you hear a beautiful blue bird singing in the distance.
It's coming from the center of the garden.
You want to go back to the center of the garden, where that lovely blue bird has been calling you forth.
But you are lost, so you try your best to make your way there, even though you don't know how.
Just as you're about to make your arrival toward the center of the garden, you notice something move out of the maze.
It is the blue bird, and it is flying away, making its descent out of the garden.
You are lost again, all alone, and that inspiring bird of love is gone, and you have no reason to go on.So don't go looking for love, even when you once lost it before.  Love is a powerful thing, don't just love someone, love them honestly, truly, and with all of your heart and soul.

A Lonely Comfort In the Air Tonight

Lyric tonight, maybe?

Smoke into the evening
A substitute comfort for the night
Won't last long, until another light
The phone does no good dear
When the line is dead, so is my heart
Why not finish what it is I did start
It don't matter what I got
Cuban cools me down while Marbol make me mean
But I'd get high if I could, but I don't have the machine
Hookah time, it's yummy
But it hurts me my love
But you're gone
My love
My love you're gone from meI'm lost
Should I my love?
Are you my love?
I question my love
So what is love?
Can you my love
Be my love?
Or this nasty substance
Just love enough?
Hesitate
I don't know
What I want
Ease my mind
It's killing my brain
Just ease my mind
So I'm happy again
But it's just a curse
I'm not happy at all
You see this love
Is no where near
The love I share
With you
I miss you love
You say you miss me too
So can't you see?
Don't you see?
Save me fom these nasty ways
Or someone please
Because the smoke in the evening
Plays a substitute confort for the night
Doesn't last long, until another light
So I need you love to hold me tightBut you're gone
My love
My love you're gone from me

Drunk Love

When love is confusing, it's kind of like getting drunk.  Yeah, drinking is fun, when you are drunk, you feel like you have the whole world, you feel like the best, everything feels amazing, kind of like love.  But when you have too much to drink, it's an overwhelming feeling of nausia, confusion, dizziness, and everything seems to be out of control!  Now that you're too drunk, and you seem incomplete, and you're taking a piss every fifteen minutes, you have some more to drink because the previous drinks, all the way down to the very first drink, seem to have left you, the ones you've been pissin' off, and because they have left you, you need something else, and more of it to satisfy your satisfaction, your love.  Very soon you're tripping balls, and all you ever wish for is the way it felt during the very first drink, one love, one brew (or liquor.)  You throw up, and all of that time you put into all of those other drinks, wasted, out in the gutter, and as you look at your wasted night, your wasted love, you have a heavy hang over, and you are very lonely,  you regret everything, and all you ever wanted was to go back, go back in time, and feel like the way you felt with your first drink.  What's the worst part, tripping balls, or the cold and lonely hangover.  My love, I could handle being drunk, I have the guts, but this hangover is killing me.  I love you, and if I can't stay with you, I'm just going to get drunk off my ass next weekend.  Please stay with me.  Will you be my one drink for the night?

care for you child

To love someone is something else
But to care is something better
Physical contact is nothing without
An honest, thoughful letter
With words of love compasion
And small phrases of joy
A therapy much more needed
Than having around her boy
She comes seeking attention
Doors are open, house the homeless
And whenever she is cold
Donations open, take our blankets
Whenever she is hungry
The kitchen's open, help yourself
Whenever she is lonely
We're always open, I'll be here
Troubled, stressed, out of control
"She's sick," the doctor said
Two full spoons of friendship
And one capsul of "hopes ahead"
My patient comes with many complaints
Emotions pile on me
But it's my job, and I love it well
In response to care for thee
She cries at night, what's the matter
She wants it all to end
But can't you see, it's not too much
She only needs a friend
Love is just a game
But to care is something more
To be there for her every day
Throws love right out the door
"Go to the sink, wash your tears'
Sounds cliche, but I'm right here'
So you know you got nothing to fear"
My child, I don't just love you, I care

Desert Mirage

I've been walking through the desert
For years and years
Walking, walking
Looking for love
That's when I saw a magnificent figure
Glowing in the heat
She was all I wanted
And all I ever needed
She came close and I drew nearer
Brown eyes, dark skin
Love for music
And a good friend of mine
But the desert is a decieving, misleading being
And as I came closer
She vanished into
The heat of the sand
Too good to be true, mirage in the desert
I knew what I had to do
Keep on moving
Don't hesitate
Dehydrated by the scorching sun
I thirst for love
So I will keep moving
Walking through the desert

Mystery Lane (To Read Her Mind)

Mystery Lane
You wonder me
I'm curious
I cannot see
Gated community
Ring me in
But I'm too nervous
To ring myself
Nine o'clock curfew
Doors are shut
But I know otherwise
She stays up
Mystery Lane
Don't know where you are
But when I don't know
She seems so far
To read her mind
Mystery Lane
Comes on HBO
But I can't pay
There is love
On Mystery Lane
I see a dove
Everyday
But the citizens of
Mystery Lane
Will not say
A single thing
Something seems about
Some good news
But all of the commotion
Is quietly mute
Mystery Lane
To read her mind
All of the things
That I may find
An invitation
I may be ignoring
But I want to reside
On Mystery Lane

To read her mind...

faithful someone, I am grateful

I hope to be grateful
Am I grateful?
I don't know
Should I ask for it?
Hmm, not sure
Is it fate, or is it probability?
It's probability: Should I be grateful?
Shit, it happens, then it happens
Step on gum, the odds are high
Clearance sale
Well, a week later, it's gone
Do I choose?
I choose to bargain
But I could choose to walk away
That sale could not have been there at all
But why was it there in the first place?
There must have been some reason
Some reason that same time
I strolled in
The one time
And I never come in
There it is,
"One time only, CLEARANCE SALE"
But how could I ever
Rely on the probability
Of life?
Who could guess?
You never win
At a slot machine
But would if rather
You and I
Were assigned our own jackpot
In life
We all knew, we all know
That we will win
No, it's fate: Yes, I should be grateful!
There's something ahead for me
It's there, it was there all along
I stepped on gum, well, I need new shoes
And what a coincidence, there's a clearance
What a fateful outcome
. . . I met fate today
Faith, faith is her name
But as fate would have it
I have known her for very long
And I had a feeling
I had a feeling that I knew her
What is that?
Magic?
Super powers?
Stomach gas?
Who knows
Can science proove it?
I don't think so
But all I know
Is that I knew
All along
Fate brought me to her
And fate kept her near
Well, what about this?
How is it that when faith was waiting
I didn't know
And when I knew about fate
Faith was waiting no more
Did fate walk up and leave?
When I found out
Of fate's existence
I could not wait for faith to return
When I met fate again
She went off to hide from me
To hide from the world
But is this our decision
Or fate again
Maybe the whole world
Will come together
And everything will make sense
As always and for now
I must rely on faith
So I will wait
Wait for the win
So should I be grateful?
There is no answer
If I believe in faith
It will all come together
So I believe in faith
I met fate today
But she took off hiding
One thing is for sure
As I wait in the grass
As long as I met my fate
I will wait for her to come again
I am grateful she was there
I am grateful I saw her there
And I am grateful for the faith
Which will never leave me
So here's a note for faith:
Untill next time
Now I know your name
'Till we meet again
I am thinking just the same
So when you, faith, are ready
Just call my name, and fate will appear . . .

I'm listening to musik

Foot tap uncontrollably
Head move rhythmetically
Words process into motivation
Notes translate into imagination
Musik
Beauty, art, cannot describe
We try hard with genres, but still not defined
Knock me hard with heavy metal
Cusion my fall with classical
Musik
Spin a vinal, sounds so pure
The clicks are there, but the song endure
Tape in my pocket, MP3
Gotta have it inside of me
Musik
Like a therapy to my head
Salon treatment, while lying in bed
Gentle massage to my ears
To orgasmic sensation is what I hear
Musik
Musik, musik, musik
What else can I say
For my love, my musik

Not One, But Two

The words don’t come
By myself
I cannot help myself myself
No one alone
No way, not me
Just look and see
This ain’t my best
I need a source, another hand
I need your hand
Reach out your hand
Not one hand, but two together
I need your sight, to look at me
I need your eyes, me looking at you
Let me look
I need to see
I need your voice
Your toungue, your lips
To speak to me
To answer me
To break my silence
Silence, be still
It’s my turn
Since you’re here
I have a turn
Because no one wants
To play alone
I’m glad you came
I’m glad you’re here, too
Because I’m scared of one
I’d rather have two

Lunar Eclipse

Moonlit light is in the dark
Nothing clear, not but a spark
Street lights play the substitute
Stars are seen when they are shoot
Misty haze upon the night
Picture frame this wonderous sight
One night, every new decade
Earth creates you a cascade

    You, there watching TV
    Won't you come and see
    There, out the window there
    Come and look out and see, this you have to see
       Mystic shadow in the sky
       Lunar magic in my eye



    Hey, go get mother
    Go and get your brother, sister too
    Wait, please don't go away
    Stay until another day, I wish you'd stay, stay, stay
       Mystic shadow outer space
       Lunar tears stream down my face

The Unfortunate Evil King

[Anyone guess what this is about? This was actually typed exactly from a piece of music from the respective soundtrack.  Of what?  I'm not telling    =)]

Ships flying in the air, getting prepared
As they sail through the sea of stars
"Navigate well my son," the evil king
Awaits the status quo from wizard blue
Deploy the second fleet, send all we need
To rule the galaxy, then all of space
Proceed instruction, attack mode
Let's arm the bombs, formation on
    There goes the battle cry, the cannons fly
    The king begins to sigh, out from the the sky, the target lies
    Still all in tact, not once attacked
    Foiled again, when will he ever win
Attention ground troops, level begin
Pace back and forth, defend your win
Chain up the sharp toothed animals
Re-soil the dunes, Piranha tubes
Set sail, fleet location is revealed
Move over here to level four
With fingers crossed the evil king will wait
Upon his throne directly from the door
    Door closes, he is here, he's getting near
    King shoots his fireballs up through the air, just missed a hair
    Just what he feared, left out the ax
    Foiled again, when will he ever win

Last Bus to Elysium

Sitting in the hot sun waiting for arrival
Getting cramped up from waiting too long
Sign says another sixty minutes
I can't stand to wait another minute longer
Where's my fast pass, can't wait any more

Next stop to paradise
They say heaven is really nice
Could you spare me some change
For the last bus to elysium

I am a man, I gotta be patient
But like a boy, I wanna have candy now
Only got about fifty-nine
Price check on asle nine
Where's the cashier, where's my money

Wanna get to paradise
They say heaven is really nice
Could you spare me some change
For the last bus to elysium
Last bus to elysium
Last bus to elysium

When I'm dead
Like He said
Senior citizens ride for free

Last bus to elysium
Last bus to elysium
Last bus to elysium
Last bus to elysium

Waltz Again

[I'm gonna try real hard to make a sound track for this using the Genie organ. This piece IS a lyric, and it has music that goes with it. I hope not to get lazy.] You hear it, you see it You know it, it's in your head The melody, assignment Stuck with you when you go to bed As it stalks you in your sleep It has a face everyone knows Wears a badge pinned over its clothes Authority, surly he knows Befriends you, and it grows and grows But no one seems to see So has there been any existence Any proof of a change Something a little different What I have seen is just another piece Another figment from the same old beginning Waltz again I do believe I've heard this melody before Waltz again This scale is so cliched But the chords, they still seem okay Though there's something, yet there's nothing new at all They mail you, they broadcast The radio, on the TV cast Though you can't run, they won't hush The result when people are in a rush It's never easy But what now, it's over There's nothing new, so start over Do you 'member, remember, I member So they take the remember and release it September And the memory is cleaned Eventually all history is lost To ignorance of change Humanity forgets to think alone What I have seen is just another piece Another figment from the same old beginning Waltz again I do believe I've heard this melody before Waltz again This scale is so cliched But the chords, they still seem okay Though there's something, yet there's nothing new at all Outcast, out underground Remote and vacant from the sound From the TV, the radio Salute thee, the heroes Why no one looks to you Waltz again I do believe I've heard this melody before Waltz again This scale is so cliched But the chords, they still seem okay Though there's something, yet there's nothing new at all Waltz again I do believe I've heard this melody before Waltz again Although there's something We all know there's something Yet there is nothing new at all

The Blog Song

The Blog Song

Yes, that's right, it's a song about blogs
Although it's more of a poem than a song
Something on my mind, I gotta make way
I have an audience online all day
Whether they are viewing or not giving a f_ck
I don't have to worry 'cause I don't see them show up
Why should I cry by myself
When I can cry with everyone else
But that sounded extremely emo
So I'll put that on private though
Like a magazine ordered through the mail
I can subscribe to blogs I'm able
And read their material they put up
On the specified category I look up
When I write a poem, it's time for a blog
When I get stoned, it's time for a blog
When I break a relationship, it's time for a blog
I need to take a shit, when I come back...
It's time for a blog
When I have a dream, it's time for a blog
When I see things unseen, it's time for a blog
If I need to back-stab a friend,
It's not wrong, it's meant to blog
Will Brittany's baby be named after me?
Subscribe to my blog and you will see
The possibilities are endless with many offerings
We can all share our knowledge, our ideas, our feelings
If we wanna hear about what one did last summer
Just type in the search bar: "asking for a petafile"
It's not a journal, so I'm not a nerd
It's not a diary, so I'm not a pansy
It's not inventory, I ain't no manager
It's simply a blog, and I am a blogger

PS: Some of these things I am not sincere about, some I am most certain, and some points are merely jokes. For instance, I am not a 'blogger', I just type a lot of writings, mainly poems. This is not a rebellious or moral driven piece, it is how you perceive it, and it is for fun.

Set Sail For Another Day

Have you gone on yesterday
Thinking of the day before
When you thought that yesterday
Tomorrow would be a little more
What do you expect to improve
What have you got to loose
Is there a reason why
You should step out of the way

    Never today, never tomorrow
    Never a day, would you believe that you couldn't try
    Another day, something to dream about
    On a day, a day when dreams come true
    When tomorrow comes set sail for another day

It is said that time travel
Is impossible
But I've gone to prove that test
It's improbable
Name me just one reason why
We cannot navagate through time
When all we need is a drive
Of the mind to get us there

    Never today, never tomorrow
    Never a day, would you believe that you couldn't try
    Another day, something to dream about
    On a day, a day when dreams come true
    When tomorrow comes set sail for another day

Mercy, Mercy, Spare the Darkness

Mercy, Mercy, Spare the Darkness

I was walking alone after dark
I wore a mask, a mask of fear
It was darker than that
I couldn't find myself even if I tried
The moon was covered up by the sky
By secret clouds, they were in disguise
The wind was moaning and making song
Shivers shake my legs all wrong

There was a ghost in front of me
I thought there it was but maybe just the wind blows
I felt a thing brushing at me
Maybe it was a cat that I could not see
There was a fear that I never met
How could I know if I've never seen
I heard a scream in the darkness
Darkness is calling, out for me

I couldn't respond at it
Stiff, still, unable to move
Where is my mouth, my mind, my soul
How do I answer this very chill
Can't get out this street is gone
There is no end and the gutters gone
Everything is wrong in the darkness
Darkness is calling, out for me

    Eerie darkened sanctioned dimension
    Of a madness craving innocence
    I am innocence crying fear
    Mercy, mercy, spare the darkness

Wait, listen, a noise or not
In pitch black night all is sound
When there is no light to assure
Comfort to discomfort is result
This striking fear you can't address
How could you know if you've never met
She will meet you in darkness
Darkness is calling, out for all

    Eerie darkened sanctioned dimension
    Of a madness craving innocence
    We are innocence crying fear
    Mercy, mercy, spare the darkness

Meow, shrieking noise
A black cat is just a breathing rug
When a witch and a bat fly
They are stealth in the sky
Ready to pierce your face tonight
Cover your face you have no sight
If you want to see tomorrow
Answer the darkness, it's calling you
And let the fear be lost in you
When you see darkness, tell me of her