I am not one to dream.

hair so silver it reflects all colors, a shimmering purple in the moonlight, a warm golden in day, falling in rivets down a petit womanly frame

Dreams birth hope. Hope births disillusion. Disillusion often leads to death.

skin so pale, not sickly, like milk, like snow, so pure pure as life pure as trust pure as love

Yet no intelligent being can survive without dreams.

innocent eyes, eyes that hold stars, rich as diamonds, eyes that catch all like drops of fresh rain

An endless cycle. Never the same, yet always so similar.

sharp, lovely face, not yet adult, no longer child, so expressive

When I do dream, however...

long long limbs, so sure, so graceful, always elegant

... it is usually of the past...

light, airy voice, quiet and in control, one used to being heard

... or of something unchangeable.

sweetest soft smile on sweetest soft lips red as cherries red as spring red as blood

I wish for once I could awaken from a dream...

blood that flows down down down pain and crying crying so much anger hatred panic

... without screaming.

owari