"O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!"
The Hermit cross'd his brow.
"Say quick," quoth he, "I bid thee say—
What manner of man art thou?"

Forthwith this frame of mine was wrench'd
With a woful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale;
And then it left me free.

Friday, May 07, 2004

this used to be my playground... a place where i once felt safe, where i thought nothing could go wrong... this used to be my childhood dream... something that i always thought i wanted, but now i know it's not all that i thought it was... this used to be the place i ran to... where i thought i'd find comfort, joy, and security... here... whenever i wanted to dream... the place that is, now... was...