Hope is the thing with feathers

I used to be that girl
who built castles in the air
and sailed far away on model ships
Who frequented the fool's paradise
and painted the horizon with dreamscapes
I made paper hearts beat
and found my cloud nine in stories
that didn't abandon me after the last page

Now the coffee stains on my pillow
aren't enough to hide the bad dreams
pressed into it
The screams muffled by its case
aren't loud enough to cover the falling silence
And the only thing moving in my life
is the silhoutte on my wall,
born of the war between shadow and light

Because the light secretly hates
its position next to the shadow
And even though the world is shrinking,
my ships can't reach its seas
The reveries fall short
and stories gain dust behind glassed doors
The paradise is forgotten
and the castles collapsed to the ground

No one ever warned me
it would hurt to lie on a bed of roses
That the thorns would pierce me
and eventually scratch my paper-thin heart
That the thing with feathers
would never come close to the rainbow's end,
and I can't survive on the pies in my sky,
for before long they will turn into dark clouds
that draw the outlines of my lies