Did she make you happy?
Did you ever learn her name?
You knew her outside, you knew her inside.
You knew her thoughts, you knew her feelings.
You laughed with her, you cried with her.
You held her hand.
You raised a storm inside of her.
You really, really ****** her up.
Which isn't always a bad thing.

Did you ever look through her eyes?
Did you ever see her through her own eyes?
If you did, would you really have called her names?
You loved her, you really did,
and every day you put her down.

Do you know that you hurt her?
I don't think you do.
You always put her interests first, you were always by her side.
You always told her how important she was.
You always made her happy, you always made her smile.
You always made her love herself.
(As much as she could, under the circumstances.)

Did you try?
Look at me and tell me that you tried.
Tell me that dragging her through the ground and destroying her piece by piece helped.
Tell me she deserved it.
Now look me in the eyes and tell me why exactly she couldn't show her face.
Tell me why you wouldn't let her show her face.

You were nothing short of perfect.
You told her that you were there to help, and you really were.
You supported her, let her blossom.
A true flower, with you as the sunlight that let her bloom.
She was always growing, she still is.
With you by her side, maybe she'll be grown one day.
Maybe the world will learn her name.
Maybe one day.

Yes, it's all quite confused.
You were everything she needed.
They all were.
She could never find words strong enough to thank you, she told me so herself.

You royally ****** her up, you broke her.
You made her hide.
Yet you were the one who wanted, no needed the world to see her.

Now, explain something to me:

What did you expect to achieve when you never even stopped to ask her name?

I waited, I waited, I waited,
and I waited a little bit longer.
Someday, somehow,
somebody had to save me.
They had to, they did,
because I never thought that I could save myself.
And you know what?
I didn't have to.

We wait for the one because anything else would be simply embarassing.
But I didn't get one, oh no.
I got three.
The moon.
The stars.
The sun.

Eventually everything stopped making sense.

There was a wolf knocking on my door, and I was begging him to break it down.
Wolves howl at the moon, that's just their nature.
But he never did.
He spent hours and hours just sitting, just staring.
Waiting?
What big eyes you have, Mr. Wolf.
Big, brown eyes.

The moon saved me from my past.

The stars shone like jewels that night,
the night that I encountered the troll.
Trolls live under bridges, that's just what they're used to.
He asked me his riddle,
I gave him my answers.
All of the wicked games and aggressive glares followed us.
They followed us all the way back under the bridge.

The stars saved me from my future.

For the first time, I saw the sun.
An existence of wanting and waiting was made that little bit easier by it's bright, nourishing light.
The sun made me forget why I had once cowered in fear,
once shaken with anger.

The sun saved me from my life.

I don't remember when things stopped making sense.
Maybe it was the night I tore my chest apart and screamed below the moon.
Maybe it was the night I spoke to the stars and they spoke back.
Maybe it was the morning that the sun made me forget.

Her laugh was golden, yet hollow.
The colour dulling over time, without the sun to help it shine.
Her eyes were silver, when they gleamed. Oh God, how pretty her eyes could have been.

Her heart was black; the most beautiful, nourishing shade of black I had ever had the blessing of seeing.
Her heart was painted black, layer upon layer of cruel intentions that only I could see through.
It wasn't her fault, don't blame her for it. Don't hate her for it.
Don't ever tell me that I couldn't love her for it.

Her wings were built on rainbows and stretched further than I ever would have thought they could.
She could only have hoped to fly one day, because rainbow wings couldn't carry the weight of the world;
but she let go of that weight, and can you honestly tell me that you wouldn't have done the same?

The days are pink now.
The layers of black that once enveloped her poor, weathered heart are fading.
Fading so quickly, and still you try and tell me that it wasn't worth it.

I'm glad she learned to fly, and I've never been more proud of a person.
I know it's not fair of me to say this,
not about the strongest person I have ever met,
and don't get me wrong, I really am glad that she learned to fly,
but sometimes I wish that I could have learned to fly too.

Before I start you need to understand something; I was high at the time.
I was high when I said your name.
I was high when I though about the way you walked.
I was high when I fell in love with your lips.
I was sober when I tried to let you walk away.
Before I finish you need to understand something; I was high.
You were a drug and I was an addict.

Hardly a day goes by that I don't see you, hear you, breathe you. Not a day goes by that I don't create you.
Joyfully, I create these glances, touches and feelings that are so real, yet so surreal.
I know you better than I know myself; I know you without as much as a hello.
You are mere footsteps away, across an ocean of hopeful feelings.
Such hopelessly hopeful feelings.
Hardly a day goes by that I don't let you exist.
In whatever way that existence may be.

Every grey cloud is painted over a pink sky.
The sky is pink. It is, it is, I know it is.
I can see it. I really can.
The grey clouds used to envelope me, until we were one in the same.
But the pink sky was always there.
The pink sky is there, and I'm telling you: I can see it.
But it's still so ******* grey.

He paced between two feet.
His eyes wide, unblinking.
He rubbed her legs and told her to stay safe.
He searched his pockets,
I don’t want to know what for.

I had been a cloud.
I had floated through the night sky.
He told me he’d come back.
I believed him.

I thought things were different,
and oftentimes they are.
But what is left there waiting for me,
when time can’t heal all wounds?

I long to feel safe in the streets.

I haven't slept for a while,
I've had a fever and it's kept me awake.
My plan was to sleep tonight and pretend that I was perfectly fine tomorrow.
I really thought I meant that in regards to my health.
Now I suppose I won't be sleeping tonight either.

I never truly understood how difficult it was to sleep with a monster living under your bed.

The footsteps, growing ever louder and more intense each moment, as they would pave their way into my head.

You had friends; big men in big coats or little women with big voices; always accompanied by that sickeningly blue light.

It was like the pop of a balloon, but nobody smiled and there was no way anybody would inflate a new one.

Inflate you.

It was like a dog; one of the big ones that you knew I was intimidated by, but at least their bark truly was worse than their bite.

Your bark and your bite were one and the same.

Even still I hear you when I'm trying to get on with life and somebody drops a glass, but where was the sweeping brush that could clean up your mess?

Naturally, we couldn't shake you. There wasn't a mark on my body that I could use against you.

Not on my body.

There were children. They were children, forced to grow up too quickly at the hands of a cruel master.

Power is a delicate thing that I tried so desperately to hold as a shield, but how could my paper shield be put against your silver sword?

It's funny how things change, and how they don't.

It's funny how you can sit and laugh and make me wonder what if the monster comes back.

It's funny how I wake up in the morning and wonder; am I allowed to live today?

Old paper factory town.
The air smells of boiling cabbage,
and even when the sun shines
the cold air could chill your bones.

There’s not much more to do than sit around, counting our fingers.
Nobody can make it very far -
they’re either too old or too high.

Three headless horsemen stand guard before the ungrateful.

Maybe I don’t need to find my place.

Maybe anywhere could be my place,
as long as I am in your arms.

You told me that this world wasn’t big enough for two.
But I’ve walked around this world babe,
and it seems that it’s bigger than we once knew.

You texted just to tell me that you’d moved on,
that you’d found somebody else.
You told me that you were finally happy,
but I’ve seen inside your heart,
and happiness is something that it could never comprehend.

You phoned me up just to tell me that you’d done something I wouldn’t want to know about.
You really seem to think that you’re better off now.

So if your heart starts screaming out my name,
if your head starts talking backwards,
just know that I don’t feel the same.

And if you feel your heart start turning into stone,
well I hope that you feel comfortable
with being all alone.