Fly me to the real world, one that is oblivious to artificial hearts and hands, one that is less cruel to the frail.
Fly me to a world that does not burn the broken, calling it courage,
A world less built of anger, oblivious to the value of a diamond, yet acknowledges its beauty.
A world where fire is art and hearts consist of a beautified glass, a glass that can be repaired in a blink of an eye,
Where scars can be mended by a simple touch, a touch filled with warmth,
As wealth questions its shine and brown eyes create an ocean, sanding discrimination, rain drops clearing out hate,
A world where the ugly is of beauty, as superiority trembles and faith leads to the provision of shelters.
A world where time screams in silence, as the yearn for success breaks us less,
Where hearts can be described with more than music, more than an echo, and bones ignite themselves, as doctors, saviours hibernate for a long period of time.
A world of difference to us, one that ties our souls,
Making it hard for us to depart from each other,
While the courageous scream and cry, along with every being of existence.
