In a way. Something like that, a balm to cover the wounds, but so often the balm is dry and does little to sooth the pain. The bones rise like knives screaming silently through the air. Every one is a story, a dream, a pray, a piece of a broken heart. The glow in the dark like dying fireflies, glisten with sweat and freeze in the cold nothingness, alone but together as one.
Very touching comment. I took a few days to re-read it and thinkin' about 'cause i loved so much this interpretation that is so closed to mine. I thanks you very much to share it with me, i appreciate it