But must peace have its cost of such conformity? The perfection in your name has held me hostage in a way I can't dispute. And it angers me to have a line and not the courage for the use. Will you lend me some to? Nourish. After my first breath? And must it be my last under this tent? An honest prayer for an answer I already know. Still the fear in me remains that in me will remain but just one ghost, my own