Bring me the illusion of all I had ever dared to dream of,
And then douse the fire to nothing,
Remnants of embers float to the sky to disintegrate to nothing,
Stars of cold light laugh at them.
The thorned rose hears their cruel jesters,
Opening its dreamy petals to listen but says absolutely nothing,
It's silence as deadly as the poison within its thorns,
Turns away and leaves them to such mockery.
Cradled sparks that wanted to grow as high as mountains,
Lighting up that dark world for others to see,
A dream nurtured then monstrously murdered in the night,
A changed persona like a virus, came to overthrow.
It had no place for dreams,
No place for the beauty in the dark nor beauty in the light,
Just floating between realms made on numbness,
Not a care in the world.
There he stands,
The one who lit those fires and the one who doused them,
Clouded eyes but he claims them clear,
Speaking of things that were colder than the water.
And what is the little rabbit to make of it?
The one who fell in love with those dancing flames,
Now soaked and beyond frightened,
Shall she run away or approach this mad man?
