We never say what we mean.

Now, we're running out of days.

I would always dream a scene,

Where I'd say what I want to say.

'I can't help what I'm feeling,

It's making my butterflies burst.

My fragile heart is screaming,

For this love that I thirst.'

'I could never seem to say,

What I really feel inside.

How you always make my day,

And in the dark as my guide.'

But, we're just two porcelain dolls.

Perfectly carved from the outside.

Our hearts, buried in all those walls,

Always too scared to see the light.

Let's break down our walls and say what we really mean. Let's write a new page and leave our porcelain skin.