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.

There is no hate such as that born out of love betrayed- and my brain screamed out for revenge.

We lived in the attic, Christopher, Cory, Carrie, and me, Now there are only three.

There was a war going on in our house. A silent war that sounded no guns, and the bodies that fell were only wishes that died and the bullets were only words and the blood that spilled was always called pride.

Promises are lies wrapped in pretty ribbons -Cinnamon

Seek the tarnish and you shall find

If you hold a bird too tightly, you'll crush its wings