I grieve of living things
Things I mean to weave with strings
I place them nicely over my head
On the dazzling razzling strings of thread
It spins to my liking which I find appealing
Stealing dreams and things with strings I feel screams the whims I'm teething
But the screws are loose and so was the bolt
It fell off the roof and up I shot
Not shattered, nor broken, but still not the same
Not the same as the day that I hung it had came
So now I look at it in vulnerable silence
With no real feelings of which were inside it
I can't cry but I want to over something so cheap
So light and wholesome, yet something so bleak
But it means a lot to me
And I know it's fine it's not broken
But now I feel different and I find that as a token
That I can never really fix the pendant string
But only hold it and fold it in my pocket
As something new that makes me jealous not to keep
