: About Me

Wind, carry me through the brush in my path The thorns, oh the thorns, how I fear their wrath Not once have I wronged to deserve this fate Wallowed, perhaps, for one moment in hate Not once nor twice have I thrown sticks or stones I've buried the past but never the bones Nor did I tolerate them hung in my closet It remains empty for my most shameful deposit I say onto thee I am free of despair Now I long only for wind in my hair And wind under my feet to lift myself high And over the thorns which are becoming so nigh Still not a breeze, no birds are in flight Desperation sets in with a des...