A long time ago she had a dream, a dream of joy, a dream of happiness, a dream
She calls life. And in that very same dream a figure appears. His soul is deeply lost, yet
His flesh is there before her. She does not know his name, but she knows his heart. His
Eyes are darkened with fear. He dares to think that he might someday slay her. He
Dares that thought silently trust any more of any honor, ever. She knows that she will
Someday come to an end. She knows what life is really made of and she knows that it is not
Made up of materialistic things. Life is made like a bird, sailing in the wind through
Rough storms and smooth skies. A lonely, yet thoughtful thing that she still never
Understood completely. She can only say that life is not a rose filled with smells of great
Perfumes. Life is not a King that is blessed with great wishes and wealth. Life is a
Dandelion many times mistaken for a dainty flower, but is against all of your expectations
It will force out all signs of hope. Like is like a present, never knowing if the last meal
You have might just as well be the last. Life will choke you, just like the sickness you
Have had ever since the day you were born. She truthfully does not know what life is. Tell
Her all you University men, all you Kings and Queens. Tell her all you Dukes
And Duchesses, all you Lords and Ladies. Tell her, for she is just a pebble in the
Rough road of life.