On Monday I went to bed holding a jar full of expectations
For I chose to give Dreams a second time around
i held on to it at night even though I knew it wasn't safe
Yet still careful I wouldn't break my fragile, pink nails

Tuesday morning I still had these expectations
but life gave me one hell of a beating for holding on to hope
The same night I fell asleep with brand new bruises
This time I left my expectations on my bedside table

Wednesday morning I welcomed new scars
while I counted and covered older ones with foundation
one by one, piece by piece,
soon enough I had passed twenty-fourteen
I stood alone yet surrounded by many
and when the night fell my expectations weren't plenty
I kissed them goodnight, but this time I placed them outside.

Thursday morning the combat zone is gone
yet there's that same old ache in my soul
Rouge lipstick still on, my expectations are none
I search for them but they aren't outside anymore
As the moon resurfaces, the fourth day has gone
I go to bed forgetting about the sun and lost hope

Friday morning I finally spot them alone by the trash
Yet I spent the whole day braiding my hair and counting new scars
by the time the night fell I looked at the moon: so glorious and vain
I kissed Hope goodbye and threw it away.