Written stories and
beautiful fairy tales,
tell of how
dusty glass panes
somehow become murals.
Of how
Muddy roads and soggy clothes
somehow become sparkling sidewalks and ballgowns.
Of how
Frogs turn to princesses how pumpkins turn to carriages.

But a what cost,

For all things come with a price
Nothing is really free.
See what you didn´t know is that Cinderella broke up with her prince
Alice got lost in wonderland and Peter Pan never went back to Neverland

So what is the point in the fairy tale?
What is the point of the happiness?
What is the point in trying,
If your world will eventually come raining down around you,
in a thousand tiny burning embers?

Is hope enough?
Hope that somehow you haven´t led yourself off a cliff
For the first time in years?

There is always that voice though,
That little tiny voice whispering in the back of your mind.
Telling you this is the biggest cliff of all.
That this time you wont be getting back up when you fall.
This time there wont be something that catches you
right before you hit the ground.

Right now,
I am just hoping
that hope is enough
to keep my world from falling apart
for the last time.