She doesn't like this picture perfect labyrinth of sadness
everytime pushing her like a ping pong back and forth
paying the price of all the love and smiles
she wishes she could run far miles
every person is an artist of their love and amateur of their labyrinth
sometimes it's sunshine sometimes it's pain
but the boulders of sadness and fog of dismay remains
should she trust or curse her stars finding the way in stray
knowing the same ending but she reads everytime from a new beginning
she knows it won't end well but still she starts brave and steady while she's never ready