werewolf Her eyes opened again.
Then she spoke.
Her voice was instant and strange,
the lowest tones of a flute
as it travelled through
the uncommonly thin
air of direct understanding.

"It's not really who i am.
It's just something i did.
And could do again."

There was recoil, and whiplash,
and a smattering of distance
girl_jane There's something in those lazy eyes.
Not a exactly a sadness or a sort of pain...
Perhaps a knowing-
An old soul.

You start your revolution.
You make your waves in the already choppy waters,

I will listen to what you have to say,
And I will appreciate the silence that isn't so empty.

You and I will have our time;
It just can't be right now.
what's it to you?
who go