When he left I had to be strong, oh so strong. I flew into that city of candle lights, blinding in mock intensity. I thought I had prepared myself for the inquisition, oh what foolishness. it was not the inquisition, but the crusifixtion that awaited. I burned on that tree because no one else could. He would have wanted it that way. I loved him. Anything was his.

 

– A Sheep in Wolves Clothing

 

1987