Only Someone Who Had Cried A Great

Dreams, I Thought. They're The Riches Of A Poor Person, Stashed In Treasure Chests Buried Deeply In The Imagination. But Are Dreams Enough?

Mine Are The Deep-seated Fears Established When We Are Children, And They Never Quite Go Away: The Fear Of Being Helpless, The Fear Of Being Trapped, The Fear Of Being Out Of Control.

I Don't Think She's Ever Coming Back.

I Saw Myself Dancing Alone, Always Alone.

Promises Are Lies Wrapped In Pretty Ribbons -cinnamon