Based off what you're telling me, you no longer believe in magic.
you have chosen to be forgotten
you have chosen to be fatigued.

Based off what I'm seeing, your a dying soul, a fogged out rainbow
greying out of the spectrum.

I'll pity you tomorrow
Im too busy sniffing flowers.

Come to me next week and I'll have your color pallette ready

I'll rub it in your face, your skin
I'll cover you with petals and daffodillies.

There now, go to sleep
rest your eyes
become obsolete

Rest your head, never wake up
your trapped in a world of grime and muck

This is what you have chosen.
this is what you believe.
leave me to my fairies, I'll be seeing you beneath the trees.