i cant get warm... despite the hate burning like bridges behind my eyes. BURN ME ALIVE chills sweep over me like a gale as i lay on this bed like i have a thousand times before feeling sorry for myself. it doesnt really hold merit any longer. shadows dance across the ceiling and the rough paint seems to come alive. cobwebs can be so pretty in the right light.... i am growing weary of my mother's scorn. she is resentful of so many things. especially her two little mistakes...