tip-toe life.

the tip-toe life... its a strange one. i listen to hair being crisped into curls as my one reason to curl them turns the other way. which doesn't mean a lot, i suppose. planning my future inside of little boxes, eraser in hand, because who knows? maybe i won't be good enough. no one can make me choose anything, and no one is concerned enough to truly influence my decision. so plodding on, i will push the glass door open as i am ever conscious of my fallen face, fully aware of the fact that i was born into this tip-toe life alone. "don't force it," but you don't know my voice. you don't know the reasons for my downturned eyes and callous care. after all, only in the muddled hours of the morning did i tell a story of drowning and innocence's death.

why must fate hang me out to dry like winter's laundry? my skin is beginning to sag and fade from the pressure of the skies and the ever-telling tornado.

the conductor, he sounds like tevya