Why should I save his hide? Why should I right this wrong. . . when I have come so far and struggled for so long. If I speak, I am condemned. If I stay silent, I am damned. Bring him home? Who am I. And who was he? I thought I knew and now I know there isn't much left to know. . . except when the city goes to bed and I can live inside my head. The trees are bare and everywhere the streets. . . the streets are full of strangers.
In the rain, the pavement shines like silver. All the lights are misty in the river. . . in the darkness, the trees are full of starlight. Moon child fading to crescent and then all that is left is a reflection of a girl who once was but now is no more.
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