Hurt and pain, they never leave.
They just go on about their way.
And when so fades the green of trees,
Out they come to run and play.
With the cold comes delerious dreams
Of a snow-white place where we can stay
Never chained, forever free,
Not remembering the trials of the day.
A girl will dream a place so true,
A place that she would die to be.
She'll forget the world that she once knew,
And that place becomes reality.
That girl grew up under skies so blue,
The skies of the place to which she'd flee.
Those choices, later, she'd come to rue.
She wouldn't know what it was to be happy.
To breathe the air of a world that feels
Something other than constant safety,
To feel heat, and know that it was real,
To finally have an identity.
She may not see it at this time,
But she does want all these things:
To be loved and call someone, "Mine,"
And to hear the flow of a melody ring.
But what she wants more than all,
Like the hawk upon a tree,
Is to have her shackles broken small,
And to see what she can see.
Hurt and pain, they'll never leave,
But everyone wants their way,
To be never chained, forever free,
Not remembering a trial of the day.



R.I.P. Tory Markz.
She was loved, but her love was the greater. Ave Atque Vale.