i feel like i am the only one hanging on even the wind could blow us apart your fingertips traced the cracks in my heart the pieces a mosaic of pain your disposition in the shadow of vain how do flowers bloom? is it natural, too focused on the factual tunnel vision, student of the actual if you wanted to, you would if you sought to, we would
a million pieces it is how my dreams have become little by little every little break a little multiply and increase
By next month I'd be counting the billionth one the reality is too real I see nothing ticks my list and I am slowly learning to accept I am getting there
Now the darkness took over The dreams I see in the night My back of eyelids grant me the solace From the daily torture of day ones
Sometimes I see a face who know how to sew those pieces it is better I stay clear These broken pieces would make a beautiful mosaic But any tear ahead will be the sudden death, I'd be too distorted for any new wreck.
"How can no one see?" he said softly, almost as a whisper that made her brow rise in confusion. But there was a strange slight relief around the curviness of her lips and in those dark deep blue eyes that seemed to have lit up turning a shade lighter. She exhaled a sigh of relief as though she was glad someone was asking or even talking to her. "How can no one hear the air carrying the whispers of your cries? How can no one see the merge between the depthful ocean and the mysterious galaxy in your eyes? Does no one feel the sadness leaking out of your pores? The way your smile is never complete, how your cheeks does not swallow your eyes no more. Does no one see your face and say You're a beautiful masterpiece made of all these broken pieces and I want to know more."