like lullabies of children who's old men fought the revolution.
and visits of wallowing pride to graveyards and morgues.
let me design a wreath of honor worn across my forehead as thorns.
and if fullstops were seen by you between my sobs.
you'd know i don't speak like chewing gum.
but for all that was spent and all that is left to say.
i will run.
run through the wind,away.
