“Jump off the edge, get lost in the world.” she wrote across the stars tonight.
As my eyes searched for the pattern which held the void that invades my life.
The stars are supposed to plan out our lives, but have you ever thought
That we are all just little toys,
For those who rise like stocks.

Fairy tales and Christmas trees are meant to give us hope.
Hope that tomorrow will be a better day,
Hope that it make the rest seem small and for us to say,
That our lives might be toys to them,
But for us, they are the world.

I spent my whole life hoping that love would find me here,
Alone and broken on this cold ground.
And very, very scared.
But when it never came and Christmas had come and past,
I learned to pick myself up at last.
Start again, make it better, hope for something new.
My life was a broken toy,
One of little use.

Until that day I met this boy,
Who seemed to understand.
That writing wasn’t just a way of life,
But really it was the plan.
To plan a life which is not your own,
To make it really count.

The endless adventures you have yet to witness.
The many Heroines that have yet to be named.
He understood that magic lives in the mind,
And that anything is possible outside the confines of this game board,
That we all live on.

Maybe it was that day, in October,
When I realized what it meant like to be in love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
The Gods who played my useless toy piece decided it was time to change,
Time to start anew,
Time to stat with two.