I want to leave deep in
my mind, but something
is holding me back. The
spring is holding me back.
It is stopping me from
moving on. Childhood is all
I know, and I don’t want to part.

I want to leave, bright and
clear, as clear as the spring.
As clear as my contrast to
William, with the winter. The
winter is the dying. And the
only difference between us
is I have unfortunately just begun.