King of sorrow.

She wants to go home.
Home is where the heart is.
She just can't seem to find it.
Find what she has given away, or have they given it away?
Happiness is a long road ahead for this enchantress.
But she sees no sun, hears no joy, feels no glory.
A numb shallow soul.
Weary eyes turn into teary eyes.
No one knows loneliness without bedtime crys,
Yes, no soft melodies.
She is a lullaby horribly gone wrong.
Starless nights, sunless days, this is a hallow soul.
She sings this song all alone,

"It's raining. It's pouring. Girls are girls and boys will be boys."
Kiss my heart. Touch my soul. Open my eyes. Lead me to the long road home.
Love summed up is beautifully dreaded while yearning for hope and floating on faith.
Until the "breakable" vows have been recited in the world's most sympathetic romance novel that you've read long ago.
She digest what she reads.
She swallows what she sees.
The world devours a full course of her stars and dreams.
Hear appears her knight in shining amour.
No, her lips stintch isn't one of a frogs, but one of a fragile rose whose planers have left her in the sun to dry.
No longer does she wither away.
She lingers in the breath, in his every step, in her smile.
A deceiving smile can cause a catastrophe.
If her heart ever broke it would be the worst tradgedy.
Cities would drown in her sorrow and choke on her tears.
She'd be the king of sorrow.
Love, you borrow my stolen moments.
Yearn for my very existance.
Celebrate my essence.
Her every desire is one she will create.
Her fantasies are from France to Japan where she will always have her happy ending.
See, my love.
See, my heart.
Come close.
Fall back.
Understand my struggling art.
Hear my crys.
Watch my sprout.
Understand cold and have enough courage to heat it up.
She hides the liquid flowing down her face.
She knows big girls don't cry.
Reveal her face only the rain is coming down.
She puts her trust in rain.
It never reveals her tears.
Be my savior.
Stop this skyscrapping fall form shattering her entity.
She loves with one foot on the ground.
She loves with no bounds.
She loves hard.
She loves giggles.
She loves with crys. No sound.
Her love is in the depth of darkness.
Her love is deep with no pressure.

"It's raining. It's pouring."
Happiness is always a pursuit.
The world plays against her.
A rebel with no cause.
A beautiful  rebellion.
conforming is death.
Is it too easy to say "no one every really dies?"
It whispers what she is to know.
Drowning in  indifference.

"It's raining. It's pouring."

Will the king of sorrow always have a place in my heart?