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.