I slept inside the wishing well,
so I could try to break this spell.
The cold is freezing, never swell.
I’m sick of living inside my shell.
I’m in the ceiling with painted angels.
You can see me from many angles.
My love is hurt, torn and mangled.
It feels like I’ve been lost, then strangled.
I need some more natural light,
so I can recharge and put up my fight.
It’s been such a beautiful night.
I’ll keep trying through all of my strife.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.