i let this ash drip and wither from a dutch,
and twisted winds mixed with the sighs of the dead carry it to and fro,
then over the yonder that so beautifully catches my blurred, bloodshot eye.
the same mind that earlier worked meticulously to harm my very sense of worth,
is suppressed yet liberated,
yet i still, in the distance, see what my friend, mary, so desperately tries to keep me from,
and i do not allow her to hide me.