I Cry To Let Everything Out

She Looks Like A China Doll, Observed Grandfather As We Departed. I Will Break Just As Easily, I Muttered.

I Pushed My Ragged Mouth Against The Mirror. A Thousand Crushed Bleeding Lips Pushed Back At Me.

This Is Not Our Fight', The Old Man Said. 'british Or American, That Is Not The Choice. You Must Choose Your Own Side, Find Your Road Through The Valley Of Darkness That Will Lead You To The River Jordan. . . Look Hard For Your River Jordan, My Child. You'll Find It.

None Of [the Books Are] Worth Reading. There Are No Fairy Tales, No Faerie Tails, No Sword-swinging Princesses Or Lightning-throwing Gods.

I Stand In The Center Aisle Of The Auditorium, A Wounded Zebra In A National Geographic Special, Looking For Someone, Anyone To Sit Next To. A Predator Approaches: Gray Jock Buzz Cut, Whistle Around A Neck Thicker Than His Head. Probably A Social Studies Teacher, Hired To Coach A Blood Sport.