There comes a time when questions end. The page unread, a canvas blank. Answers fail, I can't relate. This is the time when questions end. Yours is a dialogue that I cannot erase. So hang tight to your fears and hold hands with silence. The old ghosts still inhabit the s***e between your bed and the wall. You've written your own history. This is the bed you've made, and I refuse to tuck you in.