Her name was Lucy,
Folded paper planes
always chased pouring rains
just because she believed
that there's a rainbow awaiting.
She threw herself
into torrential turmoil,
ate apples that turned spoilt
because an apple a day
kept the doctors away.

She is now nineteen
and no matter how
many years it has been
she'd visit the same sights
visit the same scenes
waited for the storm
to clear up.

Her name was Lucy,
Folded paper planes,
threw them into the air
hoping that they'd reach space,
but she's come to realise
it's all a mistake.
Sometimes she waited for the storm
to end,
shelter and defend against the rain,
but sometimes,
she would question the rainbow;
and this brought upon more questions,
on whether angels were built
with halos
or whether angels merely bought them.

She told me once
'This isn't really living is it?
Chasing the pouring rain
hoping to find something
that will keep me sane.
Throwing paper planes
that fall to the ground
when the air is gone
and the two merely
washed away.'

Her name was Lucy,
Folded paper planes,
and she couldn't
ever understand
where her life was
supposed to begin.

So a reminder from me:
Fold your paper planes
let them soar
and keep them afloat,
because one day
they will guide you to
a rainbow.