A Boy Who Is Trouble Is Something

My Mother, Abra, Had Taught Me That All People Are Made From The Same Dust. When Our Days Here Are Gone, All Men And Women Enter The Same Garden.

Sometimes Words Drew Blood, They Cut Your Tongue, They Made You Know Things You Couldn't Unknow.

You Can Be Betrayed In Your Sleep. The Whole World Can Tilt While You're Dreaming Of Butterflies.

The Weak Are Cruel. The Strong Have No Need To Be.

But What We Are Given Is Taken As Well, So That We Know God's Glory Comes To Us From His Will Alone.