Birdie, may I weave through the torrential rainstorms pouring within the dark depths encased in your mind? Like an orchestra, I can faintly register the jagged edges of symphonies whispering ever so lightly in unfurled spirals. Your heart heaves to the melodies of the cackling earthquakes cradled within the dimly lit quarters of your soul. Birdie, the desolate silence now echoes and rings loudly in the pale walls of your broken spirit. Your mind's sheathed within locks of glistening chains, that trails you. Birdie, are you alright?