If You Don't Know Who You Are,

But I Saw The Pain And Sadness In Everything, And Swirled It Round My Mouth Like A Fine Wine.

I Think It's Sort Of The Hypothetical Point Where Communism And Fascism Meet. They Love Tragedy, And They Love Surface Beauty. You Just Watch It Play Out Over And Over In The Media. It Was The English Edition Of Glamour Who Were Looking For Stories Of Iraqi War Widows, But Specified That They Had To Be Attractive.

My Radar, After All These Years Of Sanity, Is Still Off When It Comes To What People Do Or Don't Mean.

Every Fear, Every Night Terror, Every Hour I Cried For Liev, Every Fight With Sebastian Is Registered As A Neat White Scar.

At Least You Know Where You Are With Blood. At Least Other People Can See It.