It really doesn't make sence though I continue to believe in the possibility. I wonder continuously through my self, looking deeply for a sign of life, unforgiven I stay bound by lost desire. ImPartial they stay, understandably away. Distinguished by my force of self understanding. on the outside like a lock, deadbolts with the key-side on the inside, looking out. Clearly fearing more to what lies within then who wishes to reach in my home of dead-end. On the front porch they wait. Sending letters under my doorway. Standing in a puddle of broken glass, pieces of my past reflecting uncontrolled, Directly in their eyes. Expecting nothing in return, maybe a second glance. Friends first. But of course with each step they are close, to the slight twist of a hand. Those mentioned shards of memory cut but a little deeper. Just as fast it seemed possible. Their feet reconcile the fact of my nature. Telling the truth without the slightest of fib. It is me they now so clearly wish to rid.