If the world we see is a projection of the world within where else would I sit if not in my thoughts? How, then, do I escape my thoughts? How do I push past these walls? I felt the moment was perfect but here I sit feeling stupid and careless.

I was told love was all about sacrifices, but mine has ended a tale of wishful fantasies. I wish I knew my intuitions were always right; I wish I recalled turning on the lights so I could see the lies because every word is said in actions, and yours has caused my heart to malfunction.

I once held beautiful pictures of the future, but the images have become blurred like the fading of our cultures. It's a story everyone can tell, but when does it end? It's not a story I like to tell, but our lives start and end as stories, so this is mine to tell.
© Ddawnofpoetry7