Rewriting dreams isn't as easy as it would seem.
Just some paper, pen, and words and life becomes a blur.
Crushed hearts remain, and somehow get stitched over with pain,
Weaving a wish here and wish there amidst falling tears.
Pressed for paper enough to continue scribbling about love.
Ink made of hampered happiness to be used with feverish finesse.
Words come and go with the tide, but hunger for love never subsides.
Despite shards of glass dug into my feet, I see a slim chance,
Taking everything into my hands, responsible for these plans.
When you need a kiss to build a dream on, get your fill.
But what happens if that kiss never comes? When the mark is missed?
You search for more ink and paper and question and think.
You rip out the sutures and begin rewriting the future.
Every wound made you who you are and somehow will renew.