Take a little girl and show her
all a dream that never was.
And you stand there, innocently
seeking redemption.
Oh, your eyes.
And how she sits there...just so silent.
Is she alone? Inside herself.
We all look onward.
We dont look inside.
And our actions will remain
unaffective.
Sometimes she whispers
and you can hear, "I love you."
It falls on deaf ears and
all the hearts its meant to reach
are boxed up.
Kept up
dusty on a shelf.
What do we do without them?
Always nothing
but wander and wonder
and wish.
And to the little girl
sitting silent alone,
staring out onto the stars;
She sees whats not ours.
And they never will be.
Shining, distant...
Who are we to touch them?
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