Wings like an angel
feathers float to the ground
wings like an angel
makes not bust a sound.
Pixie Dust, pixie dust
like that from a faerie
pixie dust, pixie dust
that of a demon inside of me.
I am that girl
the one in the hall
carrying books so refined
must bust breaks her fall.
Deep inside of her soul
on embers she dances
so light and so free
she dances almost careless
inside of me.
She grows wings like a faerie
they emerge from her back
she chooses the knife
as self inflicted wounds
still vibrantly shows intact.
Dancing to a rainbow
flying toward the morbid sky
and the girl within her deepest
soul is left wounded in cry.
Sprinkles pixie dust along
along her shoe line
a murky pale skin
and dark veins so fine.
Blood, blood is dripping
she is dancing
careless and in contentment
wings like that of an angel
the shimmering gates of
heaven has been sent.
Shes crying out in sour agony
crying out so alone on the floor
for everything aches within
and her heart is to strong to
ignore.
The blades reflection in the light
almost pretend and unreal
but realistic is the pain
she cannot shake off
the pain she must always feel.
She sparkles pixie dust along
her pale slender arms
and makes the first deepest
cut but the depth of the knife
is for her far to to much.
She can't take the pain
but she can't walk around
wishing and hoping
she were buried into the ground.
She must be that refined
happy girl with a future
she must assume that her
future is blindingly bright.
for she can't blow out her ember
and yet, she's so sick of
crying at night.
She finally makes that finally cut
the longest cut from sanity
but the farthest cut from
ever being truly free.
The girl inside her soul
dances on in doubt
and the few lonely embers
fade away and die out.
