There's not a day, an hour, a minute

That goes by

When I can forget...

I can feel it --

Crawling over my spine, warping.

From the day my independence died

In the shrieking, twisted metal

The broken glass; hard tears

Across the seat, on my book, in my hair

No one to call, everyone is out of my reach

Why did this happen?

What am I supposed to learn?

Only that pain is my closest companion

Only that there are new depths to loneliness

Only that precious dreams are more fragile

Than the autumn butterfly.