Water, streaming down her soft,

Cute face.

Letting go of the burdens left,

By a thief and a crook,

Who stole the only thing that gave,

Her Life.

Pale and faded as the life drained,

From her soul.

Black and white and blue but never,

Fright, she kept a straight face,

Even though World War Three was happening,

In Her Heart.

Gin and a nice rooftop was, for her,

The perfect crime.

Better than any love story he could image,

One where the ending left her happy and him,

To always feel shame for allowing her,

To suffer to the point of no return, the point,

She Learned To Fly.