We Have A World For Each One,

Those Who Gave Away Their Wings Are Sad Not To See Them Fly.

When The Superficial Wearies Me, It Wearies Me So Much That I Need An Abyss In Order To Rest.

All The Suns Labor To Kindle Your Flame And A Microbe Puts It Out.

When I Break Any Of The Chains That Bind Me I Feel That I Make Myself Smaller.

Injury, When It Is Slight, Upsets Me; When It Is Strong It Calms Me.