I wish I could go to Neverland. Never Land would be a place where lost children can be. Peter Pan would grab my hand and fly me far away. With pixie dust trailing close behind. With twinkling dust of Hope just in a hand of mine. Going through the soft touch of clouds, as I see a mountain tip of Hope. Peter Pan will squeeze my hand, giving me the eyes that no one has given. A small particle of dust shall land on my cold nose. As I touch feet with the land that shall give me a home. Hope of a better land, hope of Happiness close in hand. But I shall open my eyes and see the ceiling I loathe so much. Tears roll down my cheeks as I realized, it was all an illusion. Peter Pan shall not hold my hand. Shall not take me away from the place I hate. Where all the pain, tears and blood have run on. One day I shall close my eyes and not awake. So I may find my Neverland
