Fly away, my little sparrow,
I suppose you're truly free...

Stillness of almost night,
a twilight of the ugly kind...

Veneer to mask the pain,
it has become a cage with iron bars...

It gets really old
this game we're playing...

Resting
hidding in a cloud...

Silence grows
a chasm deep...

Figure eights upon a paper
tis such a a labor...

Everyone wants to know how to bottle the sunrise
but i have her sitting on a page...

I don't know when
these words...

Sweet dreams burning through the air
can you taste them on your tongue...

Stronger than perceived to be,
even when she's a bleeding mess...

Oh, lovely spring rain,
realistic chill in the air...