Dear, the thoughts I never spoke.
Intuition is my curse that\'s sending hints in subtle bursts and motivating compromise like shifting color in my eyes. Severed ties and several lies I\'ll gather them and never cry.
Scamper off into the night, grip my borrowed pillow tight, wielding smiles like a knife and slicing when the time is right. Nostalgic for the dreams I had for now they are an ever fleeting empty feeling wisp upon a distant beating.
Let me help you imagine a better place, I\'m floating in time as a jester without a face. Snuffing the pain in artful hysterics, tallying friends and rallying merit. Dancing through a broken palace to behest the kings request to will my heart to fade and callus and shamefully forget the rest.