With tears of pastel pink
in an idle town under a black sky
She found herself married to her demons,
and covered her sadness the same way one
might cover tired eyes.
Pretending the dream is still alive,
she keeps staring at the clock trying to pass time.
Now her throat burns and her eyes sting
because she can’t figure out what she’s missing.
Mascara rain replaces bright eyes,
and the roses only scratched her fingers,
because she was too naïve to know better.
And when she blows out her baby blue candles
she wishes to be naïve again;
to be ignorant to the world she had to meet under
A tragedy that doesn't belong to her,
or one she denies the possession of,
she still swears to love a sunset and the stars above the day,
and she’ll tell you the reason she sits so still is
because she’s hoping you’ll stay.