She rose her bow to the world,
And they faintly echoed back...

I see a white rose crushed to desporation,
I see a dead dove and find no variation...

The Piano
My feet cross the floorboards...

The Tears
A droplet of reflection...

In this place there are no doves,
No beings upon white...

The Truths
Upon the floor I lay...

The Waking Sleep.
Into the gully...

My stems and roots dug up,
And snapped to take the pain...

Carving upon the twilight,
Of red, blue and grey...

The paper mind,
I scrawl upon...

As her hair dances around her face,
She wishes to be taken away from this place...

I'm listening to my heartbeat,
As it tells me what to play...