What's it like, to be ultimately crushed? Feelings of despair and hopeless dreams, clutched in the arms of a lover drifting into the setting sun.
The wish for destruction seemingly immenent. It's impossible to deny, such harbored regrets as time passes us by. Deniable accusations, perhaps hitting too close to home. A want of something more, something to stay near. Something undestined to self destruct.
Could it be? Could it be? Is power sought only by the weak? Or by those foolish enough to believe in fairytales and happy endings? What is a happy ending, the willow asked the Oak. And recieved no reply, for a Happy ending, is to never die.
But what is love, the antelope asked the lion, is it something touchable, or is it merely just another fantasy? And before the final blow was given, the only reply was one of sorrow. Foolish being, love is but a simple mirage. Why love those, that can never love in return?
