I am not a caged bird,
but sometimes, I prefer the isolation...

I can't sleep at night
with a warmonger...

You are told this is how a young man
finds honor, that to die for one's country...

It's not the perfection in which
this piece was written, it's the musician...

The shades of your eyes are
mountain ranges that apprehend...

Dinner was late today, swinging out at 7 pm
with my mother commenting that the lasagna...

These scars still remind me
not of the brilliant white...

People always say you'll know,
and now, I understand...

Trauma lives in this body;
it builds a nest with handcrafted...

I thought I had
buried the remaining bitterness...

I used to want to
follow in your footsteps...

I play "Gymnopédie No. 1" to a home
busy with ghosts and painted apathy...