Supernova

Those vague promises of a marble fountain at the finish line,

They melt in the July sun like ice cream palaces

And the rosy shades turn into looking glasses.

The reality tends to be harsher to those who denied it once.

I must wonder how you see yourself right now,

Out of the forests of lies you grew so cautiously.

You know that every soul you passed is now just lying in wait,

Using your full name only in vain on the weekends

And painting walls with your bad reputation.

Those broken oaths and porcelain egos only carried you so far.

Here we both stand as the heat rises in your chest

And your emerald shades turn into dying stars.

-Jackie