She keeps her heart under lock and key. It's easier that way. There's no way for her to get hurt. There's also no way that anyone can get in. Keeping her guard up and walling her heart makes her lonely, but she'd rather be lonely than broken. Nights like these are the hardest for her. She sits atop the hill alone, finding solace in her cigarettes. She is tragically beautiful as she breathes in the smoke that provides her only company. Sometimes she wishes that she had someone to confide in. Someone that knew her through and through and would be there to catch her when she falls. Because, oh, does she fall. And it nearly kills her when she hits the bottom. She's waiting on her saving grace, someone that can break down those walls that she's built so high. It might just be wishful thinking, but wishful thinking is all she has now.
Alone on the Hill
