she clings to a delicate realm of independent rule
for it is a captive world with no connection to the feeling of good waved past her eyes
the good to let her know that we could over come it
the depth of remorse that only by her choice overcomes us
it should be a pitied thing
to ruin all that would have once been
to change a great thing to something all too well known
We live the same, breath the same, in many ways are the same
How could it not be clear?
It is the most remorseful thing,
we are sisters
and the only place this road will lead is the very place we began
the beginning of asking ourselves why

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