I travel the Mountains of Misconception, and camp along the Stream of Sorrow. Counting all the collapsible dreams, I utter prayers for a better tomorrow.

This rain cloud keeps on following me, my clothes soaked with unshed tears. Shadows keep attacking hope, whispering my worst fears.

These boots I wear upon my feet, have magic stitched in the seems. The gypsy that I bought them from, promised they help accomplish dreams.

At night I wish on falling stars, when my mind turns away from rest. Everything in my ****** life, is just another test.

His name sits on parted lips, I keep it close to heart. As I move to close this great distance, that tries to keep us apart.