I do not speak for fear my voice will not be...
like a whisper taken from the wind, i will not be...

Stress
the hot blood flows through my veins...

You are so vain
you scream to hear your voice...

Live for today
not for tomorrow...

The expectancy of survival is zero to one
you are so blind, what have you done...

Where have you gone
and who has kidnapped your skin...

Seventeen years
many tears...

Standing in the middle of the street
my hair down, my eyes bleeding dark, black mascara...

I fear the future,
the distance it will bring...

I am consumed with my untrained thoughts.
They are unknown to all but those who try to make...

November
cold and distraught...

Page by page,
the ink bleeds through...