Full Confession:

 You don’t know the power that you have with that tear in your hand…

Middle of the night. I got a blanket of frost and a pillow of tears. The rain comes down so hard. I can hear the screams of drowning horses in the distance & feel the sting of butterflies as they are being pinned, but I’m no Tori Amos. I can’t sing the sorrow away with sugar & spice. If there’s a heaven where the screams have gone, is there a hell for all the silence?

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