Over the rainbow was another sky,
Higher than the one we're looking at right now,
Filled with magic and miracles,
Was,
For like dreams of youth, it got broken,
Was,
For like dreams of youth, it got corrupted,
By the very dreamers who thought of reaching it,
They shaped the idea of it into one single anomaly,
A flower of unworldly figure,
Of stigma that reeks of darkness,
Petals that symbolises nothing but an empty space,
Lack of colors that represent its soul,
For they came and left quickly,
For they assumed and concluded,
And they miserably failed,
Shattered to pieces,
Their perspective became blurry,
If such a paradise could come and go,
What then could be the meaning of everything be—
And they asked again, are we truly dreaming at all?
