I just wish I was a word upon a page, safely out of reach, one quickly scanned over and subtle to a degree that with it the story is magnificent, and without it the story is broken. Written in contrast of the sentence to outline everything within it, precious and structured, and placed to build upon. I would be like mortar to bricks, and I would be like the tricks played by the jester. Each essential to the being, each holding everything in tact. I will be the cogs of the clock, forever counting time and I will be wind to the turbine with Infinite energy. I will be the brush to the portrait of lovers lying naked, and I will be the strings on a violin rosined by the bow. I will be forever patient, for my mistakes have opened my eyes and destroyed my throne.