Graceful is the Fallen One,
On tiptoe through the yard.
Upon entiering a broken home,
Hoping to take guard.
Necessity quakes his fragile mind,
Crumples him to a heap.
His head goes numb, his eyes turned blind,
Broken heart is his to keep.
O' graceful is the Fallen One!
But humbled is he too.
For she killed his soul, made him unwhole,
Robbed him of all that was true.
He keeps on, even though she is gone.
His sights are aimed so high.
But he's broken down,
Every time she comes 'round.
He can't remember how to fly.
A cure in a knife
Could end his strife.
For only he can understand.
They cannot see
Her true trechery,
Brought on by the Fallen One's own hand.
Understand it was she,
Who ended his misery.
And brought it back again.
For she was more than a lover,
And less than a mother.
But always a perfect best friend.
So he sits in his solitude,
And tries not to brood.
But his thoughts always come to her.
For when he's alone,
His existance is known
To the world, of his love's murder.
The Fallen One.
An only son.
Sits on his broken throne.
And thinks of the days,
When his pain went away,
In a place that resembles home.