Red and raw like my brain, unable to shut down, thoughts crashing like electrons orbiting a nucleus of deuling emotions.

Sorry. But I don't need some money-grubbing preacher defining my relationship with God.

Her smile is like summer moonlight-beautiful and magical, with a fire that could melt the night.

Ask me, it's a sin to pervert faith with religion. Despite every church, mosque, & synagogue in it, this is not the world any God worth his salt would have created.

Smile. Nod. Say something witty before he finds out what an incredible geek you are.

I'd like to cry now. Don't know how.

Or might the soul clone itself, create a perfect imitation of something yet to be defined? In this way, can a reflection be altered?