Why So Ever Wish?

Everything fades away softly or harshly glowing, growing smaller, end of cycle already written in the fabric. None to escape the thrill and fascination, all the pain to dry in the sun 'til hard and withered we lay down to feed the grass beyond the pines. It's been marked- there's a stone already for my Neverland, where everything that happened could've been something else. I should've been Pearl De Vere. Among those ones who gave up easy for the kind of fame that creeps from joyous burial mound to wash us with stories that don't need roses for happy endings. Lighting fuses not to watch them burn- but burn if must! They didn't run. Our nature shakes beneath the core of us. We tremble in ways we can't outrun. And they whisper- Why so ever wish to run?