Pretending at being an ambassador to faeries, while counting backwards to reformation. Back home, the lotus petals can't seem to stop falling. Contrivances stripped away, one after another. From what I hear, It just sucks. Maybe look away from your reflection, little lotus. In the meantime, neon blue will-o-wisps light up make-believe horizons. A flute of nostalgias plays for no one in particular as the stars set behind the eyes.

11:38 p.m. - 2019-11-13