I don't know. It's not that she's fairytale evil stepmother mean. But I'd rather not talk to her about my problems. Someone will get mad and someone will storm off. Who save it be I that storms off? Well I guess we both share storming off.
I don't feel like talking to my friends because it feels like I've done that a lot. Putting my burden on someone else's shoulder.
Am I desperately upset? No. But it doesn't make me happy either. Parents to disappoint.
Rivers flow and rivers ebb
find this ancient river's bed
So what am I in this world? Another person who lacks dedication? Sigh.
So what's this? should I meditate in the mountains as the hours pass by?
Time is going by.
And I need to capture it.
Locked in a jar of sand. Sand from a magic hourglass. But this sand doesn't move. It's to remind you that time is what you want it to be. Time can be fast. Or it could be slow. But it will only move at the speed you want it to move at.
Since I've brought this rambling set of words here I should leave them.
Ah, you want a poem? Who shall I write about? A princess perhaps?
"Princess in her own right, she wears a silver gown.
upon her flowing hair she dons the royal crown.
Brought before you in this place,
her castle underground,
She lives and breathes her own pace
Her lips have never frowned.
The gown fitting, long and cool.
Her crown sparkling summers jewel.
Can you ask her once to dance?
Lift her heart with true romance.
Watch the moon over yonder stars.
Candles dance with fire.
They whisper
of her heart
and ask of you
that you might part.
Never again
was she seen
almost like
that magic seam
has torn from the fabric of time.
Her eyes lack luster.
Her hair in disarray.
The crown growing dull.
The gown now faded grey."
