it is midnight and the clocks are chiming in the almost-silence. the sky feels like rain and somewhere, some girl is dancing and laughing and smiling, but she's certainly not me.
our hearts are cold. they've been sleeping, curled into themselves for too long without a blanket or a pillow or a smile to fall back on. it's midnight and the sky feels like rain and there's going to be a storm later,
but it won't match the storms inside, that's for sure.
we are biting our nails, smiling and pretending nothing is wrong and saying, yes, darling, i'll get rid of this horrible habit in the morning. it'll all be better tomorrow,
except it's midnight and our hearts have gotten rotten and we're lying and it's never going to get better.
we are alone and we are balloons let go before they were ready, we are flying at the mercy of the winds. we are alone, we are alone and all we want is someone to go back to, someone who will keep us until we can fly on our own, someone who will love us and kiss us on the forehead and say it'll be alright,
but it's midnight and we're stuck in a storm and we're going to pop and no one's going to care, no one's going to pick up the pieces.
you were beautiful yesterday, you know. you were beautiful when you were outside in the sunshine and there was dirt on your hands and you were frowning. you were beautiful when you were asking the flowers outside to grow, grow please. because you're sick of everything under your care dying, you want something to make it, you want to feel like you did something right.
but darling, it's midnight and the clocks are chiming and no one cares,
and the flowers are going to have to learn to grow without sunshine.