Stillness and blackness.
The evening has developed into night...

She breaks through the solid cold glass window...
Running, running, never stopping...

Smooth, orange, round safari sun,
creeing up behind the trees...

Sitting stiffly,
staring into blank space...

Breathing,
inhaling...

Is that what is was to you,
all a fake...

He turned his back to her, walked out the door...
Alone, her hoop skirt gently moving by her side...

Twisting hands
because I have a twisted brain...

Love is...
beautiful...

How many times have they told me I can\'t? Damn, I...
You can\'t sing...

What a mistake.
Why was I so foolish to believe that someone could...

Beautiful
I am unbeautiful...