oh my *looks out the window* its a pretty sunday

fluffy clouds passes by my window and greets hello briskly before moving along. trees sway from left to right waving and tells everyone to have a nice day. Oh My Pretty Sunday, i hate laying in my bed on such a beautiful day. I long to run with my inner child and smile. To watch and to know that every piece of me is not as shattered as i thought it was. My heart can only handle a certain extend of truth and honesty. Anything more, a shield appears and i cry with all my strength. Hurt me and i die slowly in the inside. To even have faith in fairy tales don't come easy anymore. I am afraid of hurting. Oh My Pretty Sunday, why must it be all tears...why does it hurt on a beautiful day?