Make your own free website on


Untouched -by- Psychic Dreamer



I cant stand any more publicity.

No more cameras, no more newspapers, no more interviewers.

No more.

But how can I say it? Every time I tell them to go away, they just keep on filming, taking pictures and gabbing into their microphones.

All because I released one song that described how I felt about a man I know I never will see again.

Tonight, for once I can go home in peace.

Go home, and spend time with my husband,

And my precious daughter.


I don't know where I got the name from, but it just came into my mind.

I now hold her close to me, listening to her happy grunts and gurgles, as my chauffeur smiles at her through the rear-view mirror.

She is like a flower.

A flower, untouched and growing.

As life goes on, grief and pain, laughter and smiles,

She will grow up to be the most beautiful flower in the garden, producing many seeds to grow as beautiful as she is.

Through all the things in life,

All that is happening in the world,

She is untouched. Nothing will harm her.

The chauffer frowns at a car with many teenage, irresponsible boys, whooping into the night, with alcohol bottles in their hands.

"Whoa! Hey, that's Julia Heartilly's car! Give us a smile, babe!"

I frown and turn my head away from the window.

The headlights in the car are coming near.

Screams are heard from outside.

Worried screams.


Why are they screaming?


The lights are now deadly close, too close to be real.

Horns honk, and tires screech.

I clutch Rinoa to my chest and hope for the best.

Stop crying, my child.

Nothing will happen.


Broken glass flies into my face, as my head thuds abruptly against the glass, cutting my face.

Rinoa is crying.

Her cries are heard from far away.

I sigh with relief.

She is all right.

I feel my head throb with pain,

I feel the blood trickling down my face,

Dripping into my mouth.

I never knew it tasted so salty

A cold wind comes in through the broken window.

I close my eyes, to stop my head from hurting.

Worried voices are coming from outside.

As I lie here, I listen.

Like Rinoa's crying, it's heard from far away.

"General Caraway, your daughter is safe, but your wife..."

Two fingers stroke my face,

An Angel?

"Oh Julia..."

My Angel.

His voice.

His talking is quavering.

I want to take his hand.

I can't.

I am too weak.

It dawns on me.

I will never see Rinoa again.

I wont see her

Getting her first kiss,

Going to school,

Getting married.

I wont.

I am dying.

I don't want to, but it looks like my withering point is now.

In the garden, a flower is dying everyday.

Tonight it is me.

I don't know why,

But the world will keep turning.

Without me.

The black hole of nothing is coming near.

Goodbye Rinoa.

Goodbye my Angel.

The blackness is overwhelming me.

To everyone I've loved,

To everyone I've hated,

May you all be beautiful flowers,

Like Rinoa...

Godspeed Rinoa.

I know I will see you again...