Pots of gold. Rainbows. Lala lands and Elves. Twinkling stars and lightening strikes. Bridges that end in the middle of the river and smiling babies are In my dreams. No more hurts and no more pain. No more strikes from evil around where ugliness abounds. Bad and sadness surround me protecting me from the dissociated pain placed upon me days ago. You sir are the discarded trash like old rotten apple cores and banana peels smelly and putrid. So look the other way, speak no more because i am gone high up to the sky looking down. And all you have left to impale are shells, crabs and dead star fish who lost their lives In a raging sea. Those things are nothings just jails and bars of steel that once held life. You can try to break them, split or beat them. Do you really call it educate?. Go find other places to strike.