The fire dances,
reflecting in my eyes
crackling like the wind
The bones of trees ignite!
...
the day will age to night
and my story will be all i write
about the times we have had
we will dance upon lakes
...
All the hate you dream in your heart
has it faded yet?
All the paint that an artist tears apart
the canvas will forget...
...
Never, have I felt so victimized
In your hands, you have me.
You are the point at which the wounds
Stop bleeding
...
The sight in one's eyes.
The fire can never die.
The beauty that it is not only love,
But indeed drive.
...
The wind calls thoroughly through the trees,
But yet no one hears
the sound of it calling
fragile as snapping bones
...