(no subject)
open up your windows and let in the breeze
it will softly kiss your eyelids as you fall asleep
and shake, rattle, roll the branches on the trees
and maybe soon your restless, wreckless
heart will find a bit of peace.
your eyes are pretty bright, baby
they could hold a lot of promise
but they look sunken around the edges
and a bit too unfinished
to fit in anywhere, you'll always be a stranger,
a passing ghost, an enigma,
like a floating piece of paper
plucked up, and carried away
by every gusty day.
but you don't think it matters much
you quite prefer to be this way.