purplishpanda

everything nice, like sugar and spice, that's how they say we're made. but with blossoms and blooms, and quaint, proper grooms, the ideal begins to fade. with hair just to there, and life with no care, we play an endless game. perfect ourselves, with neat, tidy shelves, and put the world to shame.

a lonely girl, a lost world an absent look and body curled- she holds her own in a self embrace, she shakes as tears fall from her face.. the soft sound of dream-like voices, the cruel reminder of far off choices.. 'i miss you' she whispers to a dark, dark room 'i love you,' she sighs, in a pit of gloom trapped within the walls of a broken mind, she dreams of that boy, the one so kind she wishes she were with him now, if only someday, someway, somehow... she'd like to feel his hands warm on her hips, to feel his soft kiss upon her lips to feel his touch upon her skin, to feel his words sink gently in.. 'i want you' she sobs, f