The flowers are closing to rest,
The fresh breeze is wandering through the rooms,
There's me with my book and my mother is cooking.
The moments held the joy and the atmosphere was surreal to the point of belief, now, my friends have grown up but my love is besides me, I'm kind of 25 now.
I'm tearing up because a person needs interaction, but be your own best friend and find closure in your own nest.
The windowsill was darkening and the blue tones slipped from my desk to the white walls, mirroring the evening.
I was reading that line, that says "we go bankrupt by the age of 30....but to feel nothing, what a waste"
And it is a waste. But burning out would be too much to give of myself, they already took away my childhood.
I'm going to lay down, it's the end of June and I'm holding who's mine, perfect for me and perfect for her.
We're old but still young.
No poetical expressions needed, I'm here and this time I'm better than ever.