For this wire is as a part of our body, as a vein torn from us, glowing with our blood. Are we proud of this thread of metal, or of our hands which made it, or is there a line to divide these two?

Sane people did what their neighbors did, so that if any lunatics were at large, one might know and avoid them

First experiences never fade, we keep searching for their reflections when we have the next.

When evil strikes and fury wakes, Then love will face the choice it makes. Death will free the loyal friend. As it began, so shall it end. Bound to the beast, you play your part-- The comfort of the aching heart.

Written By Emily Rodda

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