It starts out with a little bit of helium.
Your heart fills with it, every time you're near them.
It just inflates more and more.
Soon your flying.
High above the buildings and clouds.
Everytime you see them,
you get another puff of the floating air.
But, how high will the other person let you go?
High enough to let you join them on the moon?
Or send you crashing back down to earth?
They have the one of two needles that it capable of popping your heart shaped balloon.
You have the other.
And, your heart-baloon pops.
You come crashing down to earth.
As the ground gets closer,
you close your eyes,
and embrace the ground with a deadly
CRASH.
And you lie there,
looking up at the one you admired,
as they sit on the moon,
you begin to cry.
Who really sent you down?
Did they?
Or,
was it you?
The realization that,
your love could never be.
It overwhelmes you.
Some,
stay there,
and look upon their loved one.
Longing to fly again.
Some,
get up and wander alone,
looking for a way to fix the ballon,
accepting the fact that your love wouldn't work.
Some,
the stupid ones,
try to fly again with their shattered baloon-heart.
To the same person,
or to another person.
Mine was popped,
I came hurling down.
Funny thing was,
I poped the baloon.
And,
here I am,
trying to fly,
up again to him,
With a shattered baloon.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Poem by: ll Pheenix Chan ll
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Well now. I've gone emo. But, the poem above is true.
I thought it was a sign from God, but I'm still looking for a sign. Whether it be from Mr. Oblivious-And-A-Half himself, or from another.
((No, not Mr. Oblivious from camp. XD He likes preps. ))
Heh, it's kinda like that one song, 'POISON'. I'm sure you all know it.
I want to love you but I better not
Touch (dont touch)
I want to hold you but my senses
Tell me to stop
You know, that one. Goodness me. Whatever am I to do? Should I try to repair my balloon? Or try to fly on it as it is?
HELP ME OUT!
I'd love to hear your opinion.
And who knows,
Maybe Mr. Oblivious-And-A-Half himself could read this. . .
Time will tell.
Your heart fills with it, every time you're near them.
It just inflates more and more.
Soon your flying.
High above the buildings and clouds.
Everytime you see them,
you get another puff of the floating air.
But, how high will the other person let you go?
High enough to let you join them on the moon?
Or send you crashing back down to earth?
They have the one of two needles that it capable of popping your heart shaped balloon.
You have the other.
And, your heart-baloon pops.
You come crashing down to earth.
As the ground gets closer,
you close your eyes,
and embrace the ground with a deadly
CRASH.
And you lie there,
looking up at the one you admired,
as they sit on the moon,
you begin to cry.
Who really sent you down?
Did they?
Or,
was it you?
The realization that,
your love could never be.
It overwhelmes you.
Some,
stay there,
and look upon their loved one.
Longing to fly again.
Some,
get up and wander alone,
looking for a way to fix the ballon,
accepting the fact that your love wouldn't work.
Some,
the stupid ones,
try to fly again with their shattered baloon-heart.
To the same person,
or to another person.
Mine was popped,
I came hurling down.
Funny thing was,
I poped the baloon.
And,
here I am,
trying to fly,
up again to him,
With a shattered baloon.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Poem by: ll Pheenix Chan ll
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Well now. I've gone emo. But, the poem above is true.
I thought it was a sign from God, but I'm still looking for a sign. Whether it be from Mr. Oblivious-And-A-Half himself, or from another.
((No, not Mr. Oblivious from camp. XD He likes preps. ))
Heh, it's kinda like that one song, 'POISON'. I'm sure you all know it.
I want to love you but I better not
Touch (dont touch)
I want to hold you but my senses
Tell me to stop
You know, that one. Goodness me. Whatever am I to do? Should I try to repair my balloon? Or try to fly on it as it is?
HELP ME OUT!
I'd love to hear your opinion.
And who knows,
Maybe Mr. Oblivious-And-A-Half himself could read this. . .
Time will tell.
