I Am Locked Into The Mirror And

Cold And Silence. Nothing Quieter Than Snow. The Sky Screams To Deliver It, A Hundred Banshees Flying On The Edge Of The Blizzard. But Once The Snow Covers The Ground, It Hushes As Still As My Heart.

She Offered Herself To The Big, Bad Wolf And Didn't Scream When He Took The First Bite.

I Look At My Homely Sketch. It Doesn't Need Anything. Even Through The River In My Eyes I Can See That. It Isn't Perfect And That Makes It Just Right.

You’re Not Dead, But You’re Not Alive, Either. You’re A Wintergirl.

I Was Good At Digging Holes. It Was The Rest Of Life I Sucked At.