Here’s the tale of an Angel
Who loved with all her heart.
Here’s the tale of a Demon
Who left her without a heart.
Here’s the tale of an Immortal Love.
she was there, everywhere
like flowers in his garden
dancing with the northern breeze.
she was there, everywhere
like fire in his dark den
helping him fight this winter freeze.
but he was blind he never saw her love.
and so she was left behind
as he paced his life to satisfy his growing greed.
but she kept trailing him like an angel
except for the wings and the glow .
if only she had told him ,he would’ve known
if only she had told him ,he wouldn’t have gone
but she kept it deep in her heart.
and waved him as he caught the train to depart.
the guard showed green and the engine yelled.
he was leaving his angel all alone.
he saw her fade away
like the stars without a name.
without a word to say, she cried in silence
clutching the picture of him ,that she had framed .
she was trying to forget it all.
days and years rolled by.
but that empty space in her heart still hurts.
staring at those broken walls
making up shadows she kept her senses alive.
but how long will they last?
they leave when the way turns dark.
she wipes the picture of him a hundredth time
if only she could’ve told him what she felt.
he would have never left.
tears of anger and love fell on the frame
and seeped in thru the cracked glass.
and drenched him with a heavy down pour.
as he struggle to find shelter in a half-roofed mane.
he had come here for love and fame, Alas!
he was only hated and pushed into deadly plots.
he wanted to turn back ,but someone told him there’s no escape. Bang!
he used the blood from his dying body and drew a landscape
where he used to take her for a stroll during those hazy days of spring.
he used to hold her hand as they watched the crimson roof sinking.
the ways suddenly turned dark and fear engulfed him.
felt a cold wave sent down his spine and he collapsed.
tears filled his eyes for having lived a life
on top of a million lies, the lids fell never to open again.
the river was his grave ,which took him gratefully.
until the western falls where he was forever lost.
days and years rolled by ,but those streams she cried had not dried.
she stood there on the station on the station, now closed
for some have claimed to have seen a crying ghost
wiping the pictures hung on the corridor walls
in this winter frost, waiting for the train he’ll be home.