I wish upon that shooting star,
That one day you may come;
For this elegant world is what I seek,
For my shining light to peak;
The misty skies are where I reside,
In a land of mass illusion;
A rock solid wall that’s unbearable,
A reality subsided with confusion;
A growing pain runs through my veins,
For that, one day you’ll appear,
Streaming eyes silencing the cries,
For that hope that you are near;
A lonesome life has been foretold,
As my heart begins growing cold;
A future in another realm,
Is where I’ll sell my soul.

© Anoushka Newman 2009

Have your say!