I'm learning to let go;
While they rub my under arms raw,
Leaving scars of their impressiveness,
Scratching off my pride.
It's not too late to accept this.
Finding my anger and anguish and anxiousness
Melting away, I cringe.
The well known giddiness takes it's place.
I am not ready to feel again,
But it seems the choice's been stolen from me.
It's not too late to accept this.
Breathing, out and in,
Out and in, I relax.
Letting waves of joy wash over and through me.
They flood Celeste till she flares and blinds
Those drunken ones who fell of their spires.
It's not too late to accept this.
These wild hypotheticals run around with
The pitter-patter of tiny feet,
Dancing under a silver moon
Placed ahead for you and I;
I can't fight this tide.
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