Building a house brick by brick, And breaking it all down, Because one of bricks was out of place. And finally when you do finish it, It's like living in a glass House.
What do you do? When the inspiration is dead? When the words do not flow, And you brain seems bled
When It's a struggle to design your dreams for the future ahead, And, it's also a struggle to resign And even give up in stead.
What do you do? When everything seems said and done, And every thought is already written, But you can't find a word or emotion, When you lay bare with your thoughts undone.
How do you hide, When the mirror looks through!? What do you do? When your critic is you?
Danerys is gone, And so is Drogon. Jon is forced to take the Black, A very wasted R+L flashback. All Hail the new King, Bran the Broken, And thus ends a similarly shot Season.
Happiness has to be about, Being yourself inside and out. Happiness is about, Lack of self doubt. Happiness is all about, Smiling with your soul, And not a spout.
Little did I know, That it wasn't Jon snow, Nor Fire of the dragon, Nor the wisdom of the Raven, That killed the king of the night, Long, cold and dark, But a tiny old dagger, and super slick flight, Of the a petite little girl, Arya Stark.