I feel sad because life isn't as wonderful as my dream,
I dreamt last night I was happy in a bed and a house made of cream.
But when I woke, I was in a house full of nothing to gain,
The floorboards screamed of my agony, the windows sang about pain.
I thought about my dreaming,
And it got me thinking,
Life was a hell that even the noblest of warriors could never survive without sinning.
Last year my mother promised she'd protect me,
Then last night she left me,
In an ambulance at ten-fifteen,
And in a house filled with memories that get worse in my dream.
I wonder why I laugh, when I know I feel bad.
I wonder why I smile about a life that makes me sad.
Maybe it's the promise of the night, and all the dreams that seem so true,
Or maybe the shapes of clouds, and the sky so blue.
Lola was still holding on to the microphone, her eyes closed to the multitude of people in front of her, and open to the wonder she had created in her mind with her lyrics. When she sang the songs she wrote, it was better than the dreams she spoke of. They were a reality she could escape to in a moment's notice.
But the wonder was short-lived as the multitude of people burst into thunderous applause at her wonderful performance. Her brown eyes opened to the cheers still ringing heavy in the cold night's air of November. A year ago, Lola's audience numbered a total of four. Now the people gathered here to hear her were scattered in what seemed an endless sea of adoration.
"Thank you all so much for coming out tonight. I love you all." She gave a bow and a slight wink towards the north side of the crowd. A lot of screams emanated from that area and as she made her way off the stage.
Her people, she would call them that but they really were just her bodyguards really, guided her back to her dressing room. She felt very hot and awkward in the red strapless dress she had worn for her performance.
You need to feel as sexy as you sing, Lola. That was the idea of her manager. She was always a bubbly person and Lola didn't find much reason to argue with her on the matter of her stardom. The size of crowds she was performing to now was a testament that Bailey Simone was competent in her job.
She had to stop on her way there and please the adoring crowd that had paid a fortune equal to a limb just so they could get backstage and glimpse Lola in her natural habitat. Signing merchandise was not a problem for Lola. Actually, she enjoyed it when people showed her this much love. The awkward selfies that the fans seemed adamant to take with her were a bit uncomfortable though.
You need to give it if you want to receive it. That had been the opinion of Stella, the only person still left in this world from the original four listeners of her first work at fifteen. Of course, that was six years ago and five before she got famous at all.
"O.M.G! I have waited for-e-ver just to see you, Lola," the tiny thing with spiky, jet black hair squeaked as Lola went about singing a portrait of herself for her, "I love all your music, especially the one that you just performed. You are my idol... gosh... I just love you so, so, so much!"
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Visons. Enchantments. Feelings. The very best of people is brought out when their emotions are shown. The most important point of this whole business called life is to live without any regrets. The stories inscribed inside are just but a few example...