a_turned_head Death of a Rose In words, that is all my love, in words. I've opened my ears to the sounds of this May leaving, A concept in time, brings my silver borders as a raised painting brings a sharpened contrast in the truth of it all. Sleek and striding it wields the mulched decay of the feverfew, Survival only, survival regained? Trumpets are blaring in your blush, Wars fought against your head turning. 040831 what's it to you? who go blather from