folded_words Death of a Rose Your folded words, imprisoned in the sounds of night, covered in mistakes, a slow tip of the morning cup. a dying symbol of innocence, crumpled and tossed in the corner, a ridge left unviewed, slipping in the small things. hounded by your mind, a coursing of need and fear, left in only way you could see, getting ready for the impact of this moment. 060320 ... iron ORE My mind does not allow for so much confusion when the most beautiful things go untouched, unnoticed and taken for granted. 070822 what's it to you? who go blather from