Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas
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“Until you heal the wounds of your past, you are going to bleed. You can bandage the bleeding with food, with alcohol, with drugs, with work, with cigarettes, with sex; But eventually, it will all ooze through and stain your life. You must find the strength to open the wounds, Stick your hands inside, pull out the core of the pain that is holding you in your past, the memories and make peace with them.”

— Iyanla Vanzant

“Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive bundle of flesh. I remember what this flesh had gone through; I dream of what it may go through. I record here the actions of optical nerves, of taste buds, of sensory perception. And, I think: I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence.”

— Sylvia Plath

Down With The Sickness – Disturbed – The Sickness

“Drowning deep in my sea of loathing. It seems what’s left of my human side is slowly changing in me. Looking at my own reflection when suddenly it changes, violently it changes. There is no turning back now. You’ve woken up the demon in me. Get up, come on get down with the sickness. Open up your hate, and let it flow into me. Get up, come on get down with the sickness. You mother get up come on get down with the sickness. You fucker get up come on get down with the sickness. Madness is the gift, that has been given to me. I can see inside you, the sickness is rising. Don’t try to deny what you feel. It seems that all that was good has died and is decaying in me. It seems you’re having some trouble in dealing with these changes, living with these changes. The world is a scary place now that you’ve woken up the demon in me. And when I dream… No mommy, don’t do it again. Don’t do it again. I’ll be a good boy. I’ll be a good boy, I promise. No mommy don’t hit me. Why did you have to hit me like that, mommy? Don’t do it, you’re hurting me. Why did you have to be such a bitch? Why don’t you, why don’t you just fuck off and die. Why can’t you just fuck off and die. Never stick your hand in my face again bitch. FUCK YOU. I don’t need this shit. You stupid sadistic abusive fucking whore.”