I don’t want to go.
I am only starting to understand what kind of man I am, letting go of my peoples’ prejudices, coming to terms with their loss, and feeling my true age.
Why must the price of wisdom be so precious?
She may return, against all odds. My beautiful, brilliant, pink and yellow Rose, the Bad Wolf, my Protector. She has saved me; will always save me. As the golden threads of fiery energy consume me, I think only of her. Would she still know me, love new new new me?
"I don’t want to go."