And What If I Did Run My

If I Cannot Be Myself In What I Write, Then The Whole Is Nothing But Lies And Humbug.

To Live Is To War With Trolls In Heart And Woul. To Write Is To Sit In Judgement On Oneself.

There Is So Much Falsehood Both At Home And At School. At Home One Must Not Speak, And At School We Have To Stand And Tell Lies To The Children.

You See, There Are Some People That One Loves, And Others That Perhaps One Would Rather Be With.

There Is Something So Indescribably Sweet And Satisfying In The Knowledge That A Husband Or Wife Has Forgiven The Other Freely, And From The Heart.