up, up over out and down down down
down to the depth deepest chilling fire
hanging corpses frozen wet and yearning 4 home blowing becomes a gentle
breeze rustling green leaves, curtain
sleeves, flutterby wings tick, tock
tick, tock tick, tock.
press... off goes the music!?
will i ever b a grown up wise adult
child? No! `T. Imaan