Violet eyes tremble as they stare
downward. A glance is cast toward the
corner of the room.
In the corner lies a dream.
Fragmented, broken
The reverie is no longer, for siren songs
cannot mend this.
From this dream, watercolors fling themselves
into the air,
grasping at a chance to remain.

In this world, we may elect one of two fates.
We may quiver
under the dire circumstances
we are presented with. Or, if we so
gravely desire,
we may fight.
Like the remnants of our dreams,
we have the choice to abandon
the lost, and fight
to seek a new beginning.