When your friends start dying,
Hold the others in your heart...
We're too young for this to start.
Keep your feet on the ground.
Though your soul might be helium
I swear that this feeling of
Lightness
Is the tunnel that carries
That awful silent sound.
We know you're meant for it,
But not quite yet.
These hospital sheets are your safest bet,
As we bet fate with our hands clasped together,
Holding our hopes like butterflies.
Our whispers are kisses that fall on your head,
Hoping to give it rest.
You are a balloon that is tied to this state
But gently you're pulling yourself to the stars...
Oh please, not just yet,
Don't make this the start
Of when atoms stop tugging,
And just simply fall apart.
No comments:
Post a Comment