we're all stories in the end.

nothing feels quite right suddenly.

maybe it's the grey skies.

maybe it's just been all the lies.

whatever it is, i've been feeling it recently.

finding out what the future holds,

makes me feel like i've been put in one of your molds.

i don't want to be who you expect me to be.

and i'll be letting go of all of this quite willingly.

i can't please you, nor him, nor her.

and it all makes me wonder,

what is there i could possibly do?

maybe it's the grey skies.

maybe it's just been all the lies.

i'm fine, it's okay, don't worry about it, i've changed, things will be different, it's not you.

you'll do great, do what you please, you've got what it takes, i'm doing this for you.

this is temporary, yes you may, of course, you're worth it, i love you.

words meant to soothe, 

words that eventually bruise.

in all honesty, i'd rather it be the grey skies, 

than have to live hearing all those little lies.


avec amour, 


athina.