I write this not as a tale of love.
But as a warning.
There's trust to be found.
But there's no sun the morning.
Gladly, I do awake.
Arise from pillow, my world: shallow, it breaks.
Veering from all possibilities.
Deriving it's self of all niceties.
For my world is no more than a mistake.
A realm of broken people, bound to never wake.
The burdened, they walk justly, the paper bag layering superficial smiles on their painted faces.
The Worriers, they aren't what you'd think, they don't fight their demons, they only query, they do not blink.
Creators of art and ponders on the brink.
They know they end is near, or so they'd think.
The follies, the ones who jest, the ones who hold tears, the ones with an ego to test.
They smile, they hop, and they fiddle away, never realizing their dying day.
These people, yes, they do know, the lonely king. Alone in his mighty throne. Looks down with tears aglow.
His tears delight, them, they dance in the rain they all justify his sorrow, never even knowing his name.
"What is a king without a queen!" His lordship bellowed.
Immersing himself in another sleepless pillow.
Lifeless, the town below stood, personally I know every neighborhood.
The good, the bad, the in between, the laughers, the cryers, the dashing fiend.
The man who dances, but never does speak.
His sister, that loves, but only sings.
Or his mother, who works, but never bleeds.
Yes, the town is freed indeed.
The world I knew...
Is
Just
For me..
