Can you hear the gentle murmur
Of the brook as it glides by...

From out my dreams,
you came, and chased away...

There it sits beneath the tree,
golden and tempting, with...

Scattered, tossed upon the restless wind,
From open mouth my words set free to fly...

Green and verdant daubs the paint
upon the pristine canvas...

An ember,
Kindled gently...

Dancing sparkles shimmer on its undulating...
whilst gulls bob gently up and down...

I know that this is just a dream,
an unwanted emotion that draws...

A swift intake of air,
Then draws the willing blade...

There once was a princess with skin oh so pale,
And gleaming brown hair almost down to her tail...

Alone within a sea of numbers,
etched upon the skin and minds with permanence...

I sit within this cold and crowded place
and wonder how it came to be...