Precious Thing

I used to be a precious thing

and it hurts me now, remembering

the solid faith that held my heart

before, when things didn't feel so dark.

His hands know what to do, big and strong,

to cover the loneliness I've felt for so long.

And when he goes

my illusion does, too

she dances away with Freedom

that I'll never know

I'm not brave enough to ask

"please don't go"

Even if I was, I'm not so sure she'd stay

because she knows deep down

I've never loved him anyway.

She knows she must leave

in a matter of hours

before reality comes thrashing

to usurp her powers.

She's just a thought now

A pitiful small dream

and she used to be such a precious thing.