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Sick of fantasy
Why are we not believed in anymore?
Where is the magic?
Remembering all the times when all the dreaming human children loved us.
Weaken by day and night.
Unicorns throwing up the rainbows, that once made bridges from the heavens down to the Earth.
Honestly...what's the point in having our hopes higher than rockets?
Where there were infinite possibilities to be created.
Our light still shines though; we still have our magic.
Our hopes though is growing lesser and lesser, yet we still have something within our magical hearts.
Our forest still grows with glorious power of nature, plants still glistening with fairies dust.
From the luxurious flowers from bloody red, all the way to deadly black.
To the fruit trees that grow enchanting, fresh fruits that glow like thousands of jewels.
Soon...not only we are sick, but mother nature will fall along with us.
Knowing that her own unique children are slowing dying from human children disbelief.
Life is slowly dying for our fantasy life.
All there really is left is a Slow. Painful. Death.
-Snow that flutters down like feathers

About: This topic is chosen by xX VENOXiS Xx. (: Thanks for the help!