@griefquill You carry my soul, like a delicate flower. Afraid it will break, not wanting it to wither away and resemble nothing, a mere weed which tumbles down a street. No one wants it, no one cares about it, comparison of a moth to a butterfly. Everone wants to save the butterfly but noone cares about the moth.

@griefquill The celestial song of she was silent yet screams of sorrow tore her songbird throat, the ruby that lay their is now bare, the slithering slinking of her silken skirt swept passed the slamming doors and her mothers harsh face. Skin of worn leather and stripped from her the title of queen. Sorry this might not make any sense, but it really helped me through something.