Red ribbons.
Such as my thread of fate is malleable,
They toy with it.
Twist and bend and cut,
To their desire;
Without consideration of me;
Or what I would feel.
To them, I am obsolete.
To truth, I am obsolete.
I cannot be saved.
I have accepted that fact.
All that's left of me is to suffer.
Good riddance.

What they are is unbeknownst to me.
What I am is unbeknownst to them.
They do not see the sadness beyond the smiles.
They do not see the broken soul inside;
And I ponder, it is for the best.

"What makes you think I'm so special?"

If I could sail the stars,
I'll take you with me;
If I could get the world's fortune,
I'd give it to you, too.
*Too bad—