greeneyesandglasses
She walks down lonely back streets,
Her pants are ripped and torn;
She used to be a someone,
Now she’s nothing anymore.
And yet, down in her memory,
She remembers how it was
Before she lost the life she knew.
She’s scarred and scared because
Of little things we cannot know.
Those things that eat away...
They tatter the wings of angels
Those things she cannot say...
Those moments build up walls
That tower to the sky,
And no matter how they flutter
Her wings no longer fly.
For they are tattered, torn, and bent,
But no one seems to see
How far away this young one is
From what she used to be.
The ripped up pants accentuate
The tatters in her wings,
And just to fly once more, I know
She would give anything...
