somekindofinsane

"the world is like a thicket of rose vines
and i am the weary dove writhing and tied
the thorns prick my soft skin
and the feathers rustle on my wings
in the moonlight the wine soaked petals shine on
and lost to the quiet night is my sorrowful song"

i think, the point is not that no one hears the dove's song, but that even though it is totally alone, suffering and in the face of certain death... the dove sings...

i megan..

she helped me free myself from the thorns...