Its a pretty face on the wall
Coloured more than just black and white
Faking summer warmth and light
Until the shadows fall
Cant sing a pleasant song
For her heart is bleeding blue
Nothing seems right
Nothing seems new
Is the golden globe lost?
The one that moved her feet
Whenever she had to rise
And had a peak to meet
Serene and stony, she can’t face the crowd
While a want has just seen its end
She cares not for that misplaced
Whiles she ignores a legend.
A dense mind, she fights
An impassive perception, she clasps
She wants to be embraced by a distant orb
Where the little innocence rests.
Though the nature of her soul’s odd
Bringing sanity in angst,
A quiet night and a dull dream
While the roses wither away.
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