I wither through the castles of fairy tales,
feeling the pinch of reality in all its states,
The swords cross in my mind,
The picture still distorted,
forming into an amorphous shape.
Disoriented is my state,
but hope's still on its way,
a mountain steep to climb,
and jittery in its intention.
Justifications need no boundaries,
and my hearts in a bleeding state,
gasping for breath,
aiming for a perfect turnover leaf!