Based off what you're telling me, you no longer believe in magic.

you have chosen to be forgotten

you have chosen to be fatigued.

 

Based off what I'm seeing, your a dying soul, a fogged out rainbow

greying out of the spectrum.

 

I'll pity you tomorrow

Im too busy sniffing flowers.

 

Come to me next week and I'll have your color pallette ready

 

I'll rub it in your face, your skin

I'll cover you with petals and daffodillies.

 

There now, go to sleep

rest your eyes

become obsolete

 

Rest your head, never wake up

your trapped in a world of grime and muck

 

This is what you have chosen.

this is what you believe.

leave me to my fairies, I'll be seeing you beneath the trees.