You've darkened our houses with loss. These were the houses that you lit. And now it hangs over us, and wishing wont bring the basement back or make the grief disappear. Now it hangs over us, and wishing wont bring the basement back or make the grave disappear. Maybe one day, I'll be the same height as you. Living and dying as a child means walking with frozen feet, writing on windowsills, and choking on sand. But you are not a child. I see that much for certain. I'd take most anything to numb...to relieve myself of burden. I'd like to say that I no longer wish to relate to the words "to take up arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing, end them."
