Wisteria, you laid in the garden
He dragged you inside,
And by his fire, you will die.

Wisteria, you lay on his floor,
You think he can love you
He thinks he can own you.

Wisteria, you lay in his bed,
Foolishly thinking you’ll be fine,
That the time to run will never come.

But Wisteria, tell me,
How much acid will your stomach hold?
Enough to drown a whale?

Because that’s all that awaits
A life spent with him.

If you want to keep your own thoughts in your head.
If you want your words to be free.
If you want to hold that pen in your hand.

Get up Wisteria,
Run Wisteria.



-A letter to the wind