Plaid skirts that hide love walk in single file. Ties that restrict blood to the brain. Passing notes in math class, (freedom ware your scars of desire), itò€™s a coming of age story, (freedom ware your scars of desire), conflicting impulses, (freedom wear your scars of desire) cuts seem they must bleach ur skin. Iò€™ve read this book before. Anxious eyes stare out of warped glass waiting for the 3 oò€™clock bell. Iò€™m trying hard to forget that cold october day, when love challenged freedom to a fist fight, freedom looked victorious but no one was expecting the outcome on that baseball diamond when love reached beneath her plaid jumper, pulled out a switch blade and drove itò€² directly through the heart of st angeles. go...1Any notion of self government was left alone bleeding on the pitchers mound.