she used to walk in, feeling grace
talking to friends like she knows the bell man
dressed up like a scrapbook
writes like a writer where you can see words were neatly written
remember the book she held?
the book that is thick, the kind that never torn out.
then she met a guy who taught her to learn climbing the hill
breathe the air from an unknown atmostphere
walks like a tiger
be in a photographs with autographs at the corner
there's no more talking to friends
she has become the talk of her friends.
now she had been through skies
the limit when she can have everything you can spell
but her steps are torn.
when knees and backbones were no longer her friends
when the skin misses the sunlight
she dreams like a child, talks like a child
then she said, "why didn't I live this life?"
she never exist.
she you know is the ones with a different dream.
