But when you felt ready to shake apart,
when the cold hands of fear gripped your heart.
Did you not then beg for aid?
Because you could never walk the path already laid.
And grass cut your voice thin,
while thorns dug deep into your skin.
So that all you wanted was that path,
already sheilded from life's terrible wrath.
Did you not feel sick then?
With your heart torn open.
I am not saying that you are sick,
but you may have to pick,
between being true and free,
and being killed by swords your cannot see.