The Fairy Between The Walls.

If I could tell you a story,
one that had all of your attention...
not tiring or blahser;
perpetually engaging
through irrational
and fair weathered...
That grabs the wrists
about to turn away....
Step closer,
but only for a moment.
There's a song
sung now.
Respited and squeezed
like a fairy
that pushed herself
between the cracks
of the wall:

She's going to tell you not to let them get too close.
Because when the world gets under her skin,
and when you find it bouncing in your skull
there isn't any medicating pairing of words
that forces it out.
Stay far across the room.
Quarantine any potential loss
derived in pessimism
sitting along side of loving dysfunction.  
Inhibited reverence is her worst enemy.
Remembering all of those times
her arms stretched out
to the utilization  of her heart
buries her deeper in the recesses 
few eyes can see.
That's a hidden niche.
She advises sequestering comfortably in your own nest.
Although constricting a valuable nature,
no one else can be invited in.
There's only enough room for her in the bubble.
As it floats out
it is chased by all who want to pop it.
Isn't it unfortunate that they failed to see
the reflection in the pearly film
of themselves.
There she remains.
Up high,
and out of reach.
Let yourself resonate with this lonesome story
of the concerned being
that knows you should never let anyone get too close.