One Can Bear Anything. The

The Word Rattled In My Head Like Rocks In An Oatmeal Box.

Poppies Bleed Petals Of Sheer Excess. You And I, This Sweet Battle Ground.

If Sinners Where So Unhappy, Why Would They Prefer Their Suffering? But Now I Knew Why. Without My Wounds, Who Was I?

She’s Not As Pretty As You,” I Said “but She’s A Simpler Girl,” My Mother Whispered.

She Was Not Used To Being Cruel, But He Had Taught Her How.