From my cocoon it's hard to see out. It doesn't look like much but it's fancy as anything can be. It's where I play, where I grow. Where I look out through my dirty window. At the end of each long thread, I only want to wrap you up inside with me. By the end of each long day, I just need to forget about the hope, the chance, the stats, the "it", the known. As I fall asleep I ask myself, "Has anyone seen the lucky? Where on earth is this 'it'?, And who has yet to quit feeling pain?" Where I look for you out my dirty window, what if I can't stop? What if I don't survive? Will I die in this cocoon, and not become a butterfly? Please look after me, whoever you might be. I only know of a couple truths of which you'll have to agree. Where I close these blinds of my dirty window. It's not time to crawl out yet, that I know for sure. Because never say "never" as nothing lasts forever. It's not time yet, I'm not ready. Because love is when you're finally happy with what you've got.
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