I Wish To Live For Myself. I

Jeez, Someone Needs To Push The Reset Button On This Planet.

Why Is It That Some Secrets Can Drown You While Some Pull You Close To Others In A Way You Never Want To Lose?

Writers Are Also Sort Of Like Vultures, But With Fewer Ethics.

The Hand You Hold The Longest Is Your Own.

A Gentle Breeze Catches In The Branches Then And I Hear It, Soft And Low, A Murmured Prayer--gem-ma, Gem-ma--and Then The Leaves Bend Down And Trail Delicate Fingers Across My Cold Cheeks.