I have lost those, who I tell myself, were never really my friends. Whom I feel never truely knew me. whom were decieved by others, or led, by their own preconcieved notions,
She ran Far away Into a wooded grove to pound upon stone She has run. The monks have not gathered in the grove yet to chant gregorian lullabies. "what is done is not done."
At my fathers house I see small bushes and trees of the same variety which were once at the house he lived at with my mother when they were still together.
