Another Fairytale That Will Never Be

I think your scale is broken Either that or mine. Im only a half pence when I weigh myself in, or has the value changed over time. Its like a rose thats been wilted, petals torn to shreds, yet you still see beauty in a flower not quite dead. My heart is confused peeking through the wrong end of a looking glass, through all the pain I cry when I really should laugh. The irony is just too much, its nothing I can understand. When the bullet goes to hit, and I realize there's no gun in my hand. Your holding back the hammer, you look into my eyes. I see a cold dark wall, and something that almost resembles a shimmer of light. It makes no sense to me, how you can see the potential of a bad seed, I'll never bloom into a tree, but the way you look at me. A half pence is just too much, but you pay a bag of gold, just to see me smile, when will reality unfold.