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

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

We Lived In The Attic, Christopher, Cory, Carrie, And Me, Now There Are Only Three.

Angel, Saint, Devil's Spawn, Good Or Evil, You've Got Me Pinned To The Wall And Labeled As Yours Until The Day I Die. And If You Die First, Then It Won't Be Long Before I Follow.

Patience. I Colored Patience Gray, Hung Over With Black Clouds. I Colored Hope Yellow, Just Like The Sun We Could See For A Few Short Morning Hours. Too Soon The Sun Rose High In The Sky & Disappeared From View, Leaving Us Bereft And Staring At Blue.

Maybe Thats Because We Take Criticism Best From Those We Love And Those Who Love Us-ethan