I'm sorry I let go.
I know I promised, its just

We were the wild children,
Never where the adults needed us to be,
For the world was our playground.

We were one,
Joint at the hip.
I thought that we would never get lost as long as we stayed together.
But as the illusion of childhood dissolved, so did you.

You used to look up to face the adventures of the day,
But eventually your head grew heavy with the foreign disease
And you could only stare down at your shoes,
And then you couldn't even lift it off your pillow.

I didn't understand why you no longer wanted to explore.
You told me you were tired.
But how, if you were always in bed?
I was told that you were sick.
But I thought fevers and colds left with rest and time?

I waited for you,
Sat at your bedside,
Missed out on my own adventures with the hope of more with you once you got better.

But you never got better.

I know that I told you,
Promised that I would follow you to the ends of the Earth.
But as your heart hardened and your mind wandered,
I no longer could find you inside yourself,
And there was no one left to follow.

Thats why I let go.
You were sinking, drowning,
And I couldn't too lose myself in your Mariana Trench.

Little girl wondering and wandering
This beautiful and treacherous world
Learning
And observing

She's a sponge
Unfortunately
The water was polluted
By the careless
And manipulative
By her own blood

Is that why she picks her skin off now?
To see him come out of her?
Trying to squeeze out
Little by little
Her pain?

She knows better ways too
For she walks
Dances in to the night
And reaches out for the stars
They heal her

She cries
She needs to release


I think she has wings
Will she notice?
And when she does
Will she dare to fly?
Where will she go?

I hope she wont fly alone...

not sheltered by delusions

oppressed by the truth

free

What if every little thought
That lives inside your head
Instead of hiding away in there
Was spoken out, was said?

Would you be embarrassed?
Would you hate your mouth?
Would you rather be mute
Than let the truth come out?

What if every little thing
That people thought of you
Instead of being tucked away
Was heard, was listened to?

Would you be ashamed?
Would you cover your ears?
Would you rather be deaf
Than let the truth come near?

And what if every image
That passes through your thoughts
Was freed from its prison
To roam until it rots?

Would you be disgusted?
Would you look away?
Would you rather be blind
Than see your thoughts at play?