What does it take? (IC-S)

The edge between you and I is no chasm . . . but a divide none the less. Neither is comfortable with me, and that's to be expected. Of course, I have the power, at least on paper.

So, let's talk about you. How many ways have you tried to drown out the voice? When do you hear it especially? Have you ever tried to confront it? Is it always the same, or does it morph? Does it get louder with age, or have your ears numbed to its pain?

When you dream, do you see fields of clover? Or empty city streets? Can the sun burn through the veil, or does the blue sky only reflect a portion of the expanse of your eyes? When especially does the tragedy of such beauty weigh so mightily upon your soul?

No questions about trades, since they are wearisome, and futile. How far can you reach? When did you last inflict pain, and how did it taste?

Could you ever just walk away?