When a Wanderess has been caged, or perched with her wings clipped, She lives like a Stoic, She lives most heroic, smiling with ruby, moistened lips once her cup of Death is welcome sipped.

Sometimes fate or life or whatever you want to call it, leaves a door a little open and you walk through it. But sometimes it locks the door and you have to find the key, or pick the lock, or knock the damn thing down. And sometimes, it doesn__ even show you the door, and you have to build it yourself.

I don't want to lose you because of the f**ked-up way I found you.

Maybe he was overwhelmed, like I am overwhelmed, by that mysterious intersection where love meets luck, where fate meets will. Because he'd been waiting for her. And there she was.

Whether fate or fortuitous,The voyage is incessant.Life is gratuitous,It's regrets recrudescent.We so blindly see adversely,Linear to some 'decree'.Sentenced by each other,To live this critically.To err is Human,Ironic that we divest.For any man who puts that past him,No misfortunes he has left.

Sometimes fate or life or whatever you want to call it, leaves a door a little open and you walk through it. But sometimes it locks the door and you have to find the key, or pick the lock, or knock the damn thing down. And sometimes, it doesn't even show you the door, and you have to build it yourself. But if you keep waiting for the doors to be opened for you..." she trails off.