She is hurting,
I can feel it,
The rain,
The pain.
There's something lurking,
I beleive it,
The cold,
The old.
The world is at her mercy and she is aching,
The world does she tend but no more,
For the bird, the bird of fire,
It does cry for help,
And she but comes with love,
For the love to be thrown aside and not returned,
'Tis the greatest of pains,
The bird, Bird of fire,
For demise it aims,
And for her I will scream,
I shall fall and take her with me,
I will cry and she shall be my tears,
I will feel the air cool my damp cheeks as she falls with me
...And then, we shall both be free
Windowsill Thoughts
Crouched
Mend me
Her
This is being worked on
