Im alive can you feel it too

The thing I treasure most in life cannot be taken away There will never be a reason why I will surrender to your advice To change myself, I'd rather die Though they will not understand I won't make the greatest sacrifice You can't predict where the outcome lies You'll never take me alive -- I'll never be what you want me to be.

And I'll never be anything like you. I'll see to that. I'm no slave -- I'm not a robot; I have feelings and needs just like everyone else.

Are you feeling brave? No more games -- No more bullshit. It won't feel the same If I hold my anger inside -- I need to tell you how you make me feel someday, or I'll go insane. There's no meaning -- There's no meaning behind those words, "I love you. I've had enough of your kind -- I've had it up to here with you and your shit. One suggestion, use your discretion Before you label me blind -- Don't be such an ignorant hick and take a moment to realize that every name you call me is true of you, too.

The thing I treasure most in life cannot be taken away There will never be a reason why I will surrender to your advice To change myself, I'd rather die Though they will not understand I won't make the greatest sacrifice You can't predict where the outcome lies You'll never take me alive -- I will never surrender.

You'll never crush my will and my soul. I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive -- But at the end of the day, all that really matters is that somehow, despite it all, I'm still alive. Kuramastrass on March 18, Link. Kuramastrass what you wrote gave me chills.

I interpret the song almost exactly as you - I am a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of my brother. I have taken this song as my anthem. He can't hurt me anymore. I am stronger than any pain he can inflict. Sunder on October 22, Link. General Comment above comment Noone escapes the gentle touch of hypocricy, not even you mister. And that muslim-post poster may be entitled to have his opinion, but if I would meet him face to face while he said that, I'd still kick his ass mentally for being retarded.

I strongly dislike those kinds of people due to their stupidity. PappMacka on August 26, Link. General Comment I believe it is about not conforming to religious ways, like sheep, much like the song Liberate.

It's clearly about being your own person, making your own choices and not following any set dogma. His gift he speaks of is his voice and song writing ability. It's basically a "fuck you, I'm will be myself and no one can change my beliefs, stand up for your individuality".

Xalver on December 15, Link. General Comment I think this song means just what it says. That nothing is going to deter my path. I am willilng to fight you but you will never take me alive. DarknessCoverMe on August 22, Link. The choices are endless. No more games It won't feel the same if I hold my anger inside There's no meaning My soul is bleeding I've had enough of your kind One suggestion, use your descretion Before you label me blind I think here he's saying that everything we have, we built from inspiration and creativity I strongly agree with what he's saying here, Keep your indeviduality and be creative.

Carry the torch that your forefathers lit, keep your inspiration and create more, be an artist because deep down everyone is an artist just overbrimmed with potential and ideas. Last thing is when he says: "One suggestion, use your descretion Before you label me blind" I think he's trying to get the point across to listen to someone, hear them out and let them be unique before you say they're crazy, or stupid, or whatever you might say.

A ceasefire came into force in the Gaza Strip in the early hours of Friday morning, thanks to Allah. Just days ago I was sitting on the floor of my home in the Gaza Strip, trying to work. It was hard to concentrate when explosions kept shaking my house like an earthquake had struck. Each time, I instinctively jerked my body, scared that my windows will shatter, showering me in jagged glass shards. I rushed to switch on the TV, to check the news to learn what is going on around me.

I then hurried back to my work, before the laptop battery ran out again. For over a week, more than 2 million people in the Gaza Strip were subjected to relentless, devastating bombing from sea, land and air. This killed more than people — many of them children, women and older people — and injured about 1, others. It is a sad and frightening sight. My sister lives in the city centre, which is usually a lively, bustling place, thronged with people. A bomb hit a residential tower next to her home.

Those able to remain in their homes still faced disaster. For 3 days my family, like many others, struggled even to get water. The bombing has also damaged our sewage networks, triggering alarm about another looming health crisis.

Our health services are already close to collapse after years of blockade and now the Covid pandemic too. Medicines and medical disposables are in critically short supply, and our hospitals struggle to operate with unreliable access to electricity and water.

But what do I know Of having to choose one violence over another? Asleep now She rests inside her flesh, my father close beside her On his back, his forearm across his eyes, He who chose her, too, And over his own family, he knew to tell us, having learned early That you must cross whatever line you have to cross. National Poetry Month. Materials for Teachers Teach This Poem. Poems for Kids. Poetry for Teens. Lesson Plans. Resources for Teachers. Academy of American Poets.

American Poets Magazine. Poems Find and share the perfect poems. If I Am Alive To. Or, a tiny moon On a shore of white sand, The tide lapping it in foam and tugging—No, Twelve dead presidents perched there Each with the face of my father— Tight-lipped, vacant-eyed— Scanning the field for a body to mark Then locking in on her knee-bent dread— Ordinary, mammary— A yellow suckling heavy on her tit. No, I think it was her one good eye Refusing to blink, Scaling the bare-white wall At the core of the mind not measuring its height Then circling a waterless well In a desert without sand, Unnumbered sisters before her Caught in the belly of the boats— Where there was too much sound to hear, Though only one voice, one cry— Their dark arms like trellised vines Crossed and reaching.