The rain hums against a thin glass window,
A sweet solitary sort of sound...

Through these rainy, painful days,
We will dance through the mesa grass...

Light balances bright
Lovely beacon for dreamers...

Dear Diary,
I fell today, a little harder than before...

Ideas slip between simple fingers.
Slamming to the ground, shattering into a million...

These words are not my own,
I claw for the desperately in the recesses of my...

Radio hums too-quietly in the background,
white noise to my e'er simplistic ears...

Acrid wind burns through the desert,
as the night turns from velvet to oil...

She says she's been walking a little bit too long
beneath this burning December sun...

She treats life like a photo,
a singular moment that's hanging in the air...

Little ghost girl floats along,
crying tears of shame on these joyous days...

Can you hear the symphony
or fireworks and running feet...