Yearning for a dream never to be fulfilled, 
The Girl was deadly skilled. 
Belittled until her name was lost in the shadows, 
Chances of escaping this ghost of a world are very narrow.

 

There she goes, carrying her heart so fragile, 
But then again, the clouds cry out at the glimpse of her smile. 
Feeling thoroughly, catching every emotion in her wide net, 
Her head in the clouds, The Girl always watched the white moon set. 

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It won’t be long ‘til she knows her heart unlike the back of her hand, 
But there would still be grass untouched in her land. 
With tiny glass pieces still piercing the skin of her soles. 
Pieces that form a shadow from the past in whole. 

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Little by little, she’d pluck them out 
And with thousands of flowers yet to sprout, 
She’d make it seem like a field of compassion. 
Even when her skin would turn ashen. 

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She’d learn to dream impossible dreams 
Ever since she was born, to ignore the agonizing screams 
That would paint her world blue even after she would leave 
The ‘safe haven’ that had taught her not to believe. 

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She knew that they wouldn’t ever come true, 
They had the brightest of colours and the lowest of emotions to pursue. 
But a creature embedded deep inside left traces of hope, 
About to topple, balanced high on the slope. 

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They still manage to keep her alive and sane, 
Without them the creature would be difficult to sustain.  
They’re voices are so very surreal, 
It has often become an ordeal. 

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She continues to walk the hill of ambition to leave the globe with a dent, 
Or rather, should it be bent?