the little child speaks her own language
drawing us in
the daughter writers prophecy unknowingly
as her first poetry
she is cuteness incarnate
wild girl, farm girl, they burned her at the stake
and she... does not remember a thing...
but I... remember... everything
everyone goes away in the end
it was not his own pain
he was seeing
No... the pain of someone else was your light
your plot
your most loving audience
the Martyr
drawing us in
the daughter writers prophecy unknowingly
as her first poetry
she is cuteness incarnate
wild girl, farm girl, they burned her at the stake
and she... does not remember a thing...
but I... remember... everything
everyone goes away in the end
it was not his own pain
he was seeing
No... the pain of someone else was your light
your plot
your most loving audience
the Martyr
