I want to cry, purge my body of the hurt - I feel the toxins in the air.
But I can't make a single tear come out, cause I know you just don't care.
And I wait for love all snuggled up in bed, while visions of demons dance in my head.
And they're asking me why I don't give up the fight,
   cause nobody loves me round here tonight.
And even though I know better, I'm thinking that they're right.
I don't want to sound emo, but I want to cut my wrists.
And not just for the fact; I haven't had my first kiss.
That sounds ridiculously stupid, trust me, I know.
But under this rough exterior that's how I want my life to go.
I guess I'm just a dreamer, wanting happily ever afters to come true.
And I really just want my own, so tell me what I have to do.
I want to meet the perfect guy
And have the perfect life.
Then ride off into the sunset like Cinderella, or Snow White.
So how does all this happiness fit in with a girl like me?
I don't know either, I guess we'll have to wait and see.

Memories were made specifically for certain people
Their memories were planned out from the beginning
They would have friends and family beside them, and laughter that would
Float up from their hearts up through their mouths and into the universe
These memories would forever be captured into the person's brain
And there are some memories for others
That aren't for me
Memories that I am so close too
And some that cast a distant shadow over me
I love to build new memories
It gives my life joy and that deep heartfelt laughter
I get those memories sometimes
And they are the best times I've ever had
Memories like those are the ones I will treasure most
The ones I will tell my kids and grandkids
The ones the universe will know as Leie's memories
They will never be forgotten
They will not be pushed aside
They will forever stay my
Memories...

The hounds of fear nip at winter heels,
whelping doubt and baying at the moon.
Cocoon prayers whispered across the fields
of becoming; this dark of the light is
contextually contrasted.  i am little and
young against the ages, something loose
and rattling in the box of reality and
afraid, fleeing the dogs of war.
i write post-it note prophecies and  
crumple them,  building a nest in
the trees, a mother's womb nearer the sky,
for when the sun comes it comes
first to the birds on high.

Tonight I want to express my gratitude but my words seem to fail me. The support I receive is part of the reason why I fight so hard. You send me strength when I have none. Even far away, you are still right here, listening to me, encouraging me, holding me, loving me, sending me hope. Shared history explains the how, but love explains the why. You, my guardian angels, carry me through, reminding me that my life is worth fighting for, that I am worth fighting for, I deserve to be here. That Nita can be saved.