Expectations are set too high,
Kill me, I’d rather die.
The sky might fall anytime now,
A sword pushing me down to bow.
The night sky is my happiness’ nemesis.
I miss the innocence, the childlike bliss.
The birds don’t sing that song anymore,
It’s now all about despair and remorse.
The chill of the night rather warms me,
Loneliness, of my loss it informs me.
Call me a coward for this action of mine,
Forgive me if I ever was out of line.