Fairy with the Broken Wing


United States
34° 0' 29.9628" N, 118° 20' 56.8212" W

The fairy with the broken wing
That loves to write,
That loves to sing,
That can't seem to do anything right.
Words spoken are a beautiful sound,
But those written scream out.
To those words, she is forever bound.
Those words, she cannot live without.
She unrolls her parchment scroll.
Her feather quill bleeds black.
The forbidden words penetrate the soul.
The words are forever embedded; no turning back.
The words, they sing
Through winter, summer, fall,
And spring.
A song so beautiful, it will make you squall.

Looking in the mirror,
She doesn't recognize her own reflection.
Reaching for her goals and approaching nearer,
She always strives for perfection.
As she reaches she slips off of the edge of reality
Into an abyss
Where all of her dreams lay, as well as her vitality;
All of the things she will miss

Her life; A flower
The harsh winds of reality pass
And blow with such power
That they knock the petals down and they fall onto the grass.
She watches as the flower is dying.
One petal falls ever year.
She stands crying,
Doubt within every tear.
The final petal will fall
When her time is up on this earth.
She hopes that she will hear the sound of the angels call
And only then will she be full of mirth.
Who is she?
She is no one.
She is now only the voice of me;
Heard by everyone; Ignored by everyone.


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