Two in distressmake sorrow less.
But I was not made for the great light that devours, a dim lamp was all I had been given, and patience without end, to shine it on the empty shadows.
We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener.
My mistakes are my life.
Any fool can turn a blind eye but who knows what the ostrich sees in the sand.
I say me, knowing all the while it's not me.