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Staring while music pounds through my ears. I relax as the slow, wavering lyrics rip around inside me. Humanity needs to wake up. To open their eyes. Like that’s possible. When I write, I think. I think about life. I think about the reason that we live. The reason that we die. I feel different from the uncaring people. I’ve met few of my kind. We are the painters of the unseen images. We are the singers of unheard songs. We are that which you chose to ignore.