XdruidX's Profile

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Waning Gibbous Moon
Waning Gibbous
56% Full
Member Info
Name: XdruidX
Birthday: Dec 25 1998
Gender: Male
Last Seen: Sat, 22 Oct 2016

Membership: Member
Coven Title: Member

Facebook: view
Youtube: view

Personal Bio
I have a youtube channel! link is above

status: Looking for someone to chat with, but haven't really found anyone. A simple "hey" would do.

kik --> XdruidXx

Hello, welcome to my bio. Currently I'll take what I can get when it comes to conversation. But be warned, I do not like text speak or a lack of conversation. Do not message me and then just say yeah or okay or not much if I ask whats up. Make it interesting. Bring flavor to it like a fine cultured dish. Not too much spice, but appealing to a colorful palette. I have a dark side, but I am also a gentleman and can be respectful when treated with the same. Respect is a two way street, do not jump traffic or you'll get run over. Also, since you all keep asking -_- I'm straight. Well, technically speaking I'm a heteromantic demisexual, but for all intensive purposes straight is all you really need. And I'm single, not that it should matter really, look up demisexual and you'd understand why.

That all taken into consideration, I've been here five years now, Started some time around 12, (do the math and I'm 17) and have learned quite a bit. If you have a question, feel free to ask.


Take a look round lively old London, Buzzing crowds we sweat and we revel, Red-cheeked shouts and songs, In the flicker of the gaslight, Eager Blighty bursts from the cobblestones, Racing, climbing blooming fertility, Born from secret seeds, That were scattered in the nighttime, London is fed upon the meat of the dead, They're one shallow inch below the town, Underground, Underground, Leave them underground, Them that whispered dreams that only poisoned us, Them that told us lies of their bravery, Them that preached of progress, and put us in the poorhouse, Them done horrid murder on bloody stages, Them that loudly crowed their humility, Lords and dames that sung in the chapels on a Sunday, All quiet now. Their mouths are stopped up by mud. They lie flung in rags and make no sound. Underground, Underground, Leave them underground, Those who fought for something better, Those who taught by how they lived, Loved ones taken long before their work was done, Underground, Underground, Leave them underground. Underground, Underground, Leave them underground.

Chakra test results are as follows:

Root: open (69%)

Sacral: open (44%)

Navel: open (69%)

Heart: open (44%)

Throat: over-active (81%)

Third Eye: open (56%)

Crown: open (44%)

This is a poem for the darkened.

This is a poem for the broken who have been cast aside without love.

This is a poem for the damned.

This is a poem for the people so consumed by their own depression they die every day.

This is a poem for that one kid who died by the rope.

His mother found him cold in the morning. Her child, so young, took his own life rather than deal with the constant flood of daggers to his heart each day.

This is a poem for the parents. The Parents who have lost the broken and lost, and blame themselves.

This is a poem for the restless.

This is a poem for the anxious. Always worrying.

This is a poem for those who have lost broken friends and worry they will lose again.

This is a poem for the ones who are gone, dead by the hands of others, or maybe another aspect of themselves.

This is a poem for the normal people. The ones who can relate without going through any struggle and sympathize with the damaged.

This is a poem for the angry, who in rage damage both themselves and others.

This is a poem for the boy who takes out his rage on everyone else to have some form of an outlet, but he cries every night.

For he is not heartless, and he cries for those he has pained. He wishes them well, but can?t show it.

This is a poem for the wicked, those driven into madness by it all.

This is a poem for the bastard souls who feel nothing at all due to the constant degradation of everyday living. They?ve gone numb, longing to feel but suffer in silence without stimulus.

This is a poem for me. The kid so focused on helping others he?s killed himself a thousand times just to save others once. The kid who struggles every day in secrecy. Constantly an anxious, depressed mess hiding behind a mask of false hope.

This a poem for the people like me. Like me in the way that I fight with my dad over the things he?s done to me in the past.

Like me in the way I smile every day and suffer silently every night.

Like me for caring for others no matter how much they themselves are bleeding and cracked.

This is a poem for the broken dreamers and the souls that only see dark, yet are the light that others follow.

This is a poem for the darkened.

-Jesse John.

If you're going to copy it, don't. If you do, give me credit, seriously.


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