In lullabies our words are dreams as we whisper unheard wishes to a crumbling world.
In fantasies we tell of the hidden evil in a seemingly perfect world, or the hidden beauty in a seemingly evil one.
In reveries, we float to fallen pieces of Heaven; fallen for no reason other than to let us grasp onto happiness and hope in the most trying circumstances.
Let us never outgrow our dreams, and drift to a place of empty solitude, where darkness reigns, not in our eyes but in our hearts, where the sky outside is bright and blue, but clouds will forever shroud our minds from sunlight.
Is there a way to part these curtains of translucent grey lace? Of clouds and mist from blackened seas weary from years of storms? Could the sun shine through this worn out wall, which wishes to crumble from its weight but knows not how?