I've been trying to tell a story,
I knew the ending from the start,
A mosaic of rubble picked up from the pieces of my heart,

A tale of a genuine love that shines through the darkest nights,
From a bottomless depth, reaching the furthest heights,

I tried to tell my story but out came forth a hushed squeak,
Then I realised living my tale had left me unable to speak,

I lost my voice, and lost my pain,
Lost my smile, with no gain,
There wasn't a lesson that I had to learn,
Nor some experience I had to earn,

All I wanted was to be happy,
And joyful, even giddy,
I created an illusion and I closed my eyes to the light,
And when I was finally ready to see the truth, I had lost my sight,

His laughing eyes, hair as dark as charcoal,
But not nearly as black as his heart, ice cold,

I never found my fairytale, forever locked in a castle,
I've lost my heart, to get it back too much of a hassle,

I no longer dream of princes riding with a valiant sword,
Now I know, the blades serve to tear me apart and burn me to my core,

I have a story to tell, of a young girl full of life,
Mirror mirror, on the wall, how can I be so dead, and yet alive?

I know not all the answers, but I do know this to be true,
To love is to begin a nightmare, and my lost story starts with you.

©Hermit