There thrice was a girl, for she needed me only thrice, who'se life was rife with burdenous strife. In the daytime she smiled and seemed so alive, but the night hours revealed the wrinkles in her eyes. And she lied through her teeth, so they dulled all the while. No more whites to her name, she operated in grays, until she found a boy who told stories that might soothe her sullied hopes.
How nice to be needed, and all cautions heeded, I sped of to save this soul of such sorrow. I told her a story that started last night and lasted far into tomorrow. The characters were flawed and all fumbled with claws to paint in soft pastel colors. There was a boy and a well, and a dreamer who fell (into a deep sleep), and even one tale about lovers.
So this girl who was lost now found purpose at cost of attachment to the tale-teller lips. But in all of my dreams, such fantastical things could never have come to exist, without some prodding from the mind of a girl passing time trying to cheer the whole world up by herself. So I'll take one for the team and devote my midnights it seems, to making her smile and laugh.
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