Into A Thousand Pieces

The tiny hands unfold, embrace,

The world before her, vibrant,

With the colors of infinity, and success,

Or the gloomy dust of failure,

Identifies oneself as very much immature,

And yet beloved to all,

Just like the victory that does enthrall,

And lure so many lives,

Into wasting themselves, never,

Finding their one true passion, love,

Conjuring up false hopes and dreams,

‘Cause that acts like a boat on life’s streams,

Can tip you over anytime,

And move on without ‘wasting’ time,

To look at you, and concentrate on whether,

You hurt yourself, or even shed a sorrowful tear,

That proves it is the false one,

That can never be your life’s rising sun,

But can always make you sink down,

Not even looking around,

To secure any means of saving you,

The most dangerous is that you can no longer tell which is a lie and what is true,

Until you fall apart, shatter,

Into a thousand pieces.

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