i regret i have more enthusiasm than talent in regards to poetics
alas, at the moment, i run low on that as well
who am i? i am myself
once i was a child. i did not heed the warnings of she who i believed my worst enemy
in fact, she was my best friend. and she was torn to pieces because of it. because i did not listen
i run, now. from birds. it must sound silly, but it is true
they live in men, and they can command the elements themselves
a fanciful tale, yes...but also one grounded in terrible, irrefutable fact
i simply run now. run and remember my dear, sweet cordelia.
i thought her my enemy but, in truth, she was better to me than any other.
those i thought my friends were merely servants of the foul fowl that so vex me.
perhaps more, later, if i have a need to release that which haunts me within