In dangerous dreams
My mind still lingers,
My heart screams,
Pain flashes to my fingers...
I feel so alone.
Where in the world
Can I find such friends
With whom I could dance
In a magical trance
In a cave at midnight
To the rhythm of a poem?
My heart is with them,
But they're not with my heart.
They're always on my mind,
But I'll never be on theirs.
I know their souls,
But they do not know mine.
This feeling is a ghoul
Eating away my shine.
Reading is not for escaping
And dreaming idly.
Authors are murderers
Roaming freely.
Their books are full of horcruxes
From our fictional friends,
And because of those deaths
Their fame never ends.
Preparation is not helpful,
For my heart is still so hopeful,
Oh, the agony of knowing things to come!
It was all in my head,
But my heart still bled
Knowing: nothing can be done.
I watch them walk
Down the aisle with their death.
I want to run after them
But I am not there.
I want to shout,
But I am not there.
I want to bring them back to life -
But I am not there.
Why is that so?
Why does my heart beat
So fast for those
Who are only a dream,
Crave desperately those
Who are only a dream?
My heart, it lives with those
Who are only a dream.
In my mind they persist,
But they still don't exist.
In my heart, there's a void
Which can't be destroyed.
No matter how much
In their world I abided,
My love for them will remain
One-sided.