I don't see the color in the flowers which line the path to a supposed never-ending fairytale.
Knight in shining plastic, melting with each step that I take.
I can't seem to shake the nightmare which depicts your heart slipping out of my hands;
Keeping it there is about as difficult as trying to grab water and cup it without letting it slip through the creases of my fingers.
Yet, just like the water falling through the cracks of my blank palms, the loss is inevitable.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 7:05 PM UTC
I don't see the color in the flowers which line the path to a supposed never-ending fairytale.
Knight in shining plastic, melting with each step that I take.
I can't seem to shake the nightmare which depicts your heart slipping out of my hands;
Keeping it there is about as difficult as trying to grab water and cup it without letting it slip through the creases of my fingers.
Yet, just like the water falling through the cracks of my blank palms, the loss is inevitable.
