Closed the curtains,
Of that sky-high stage.
Where juliet was lovesick,
Trapped in her golden cage.
Playing a blindfolded girl,
In a delusional play,
Didn't realize she needed no saviors,
She can paint her world, that's grey.
A power so astronomical she held,
That even the wounds stitched themselves,
Holding on tight to her racing mind,
The demons within her, she compels.
She rained down love upon herself,
Bloomed as the flowers during spring,
She breathed freely in a suffocating world,
Kind of love that made her wounded soul sing.
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