When will that be?

Last night I think I dreamt a beautiful song. But when I woke, the birds had flown and it was gone.

My brother hit my Mom again. I don't think I can live with this for much longer. Strangely, it's much worse than any other abuse I've ever been through.

And all the time there was the thin deathly sound of glass breaking into fragments, always, it seemed, one more and yet one more, continuing like the high scream of a madman with nothing left to destroy but himself.

I'll just take my leave then.

AnRu reminisced at 8:45:00 PM.