The angel has burned its wings
And crashed into the earth.
The angel has burned its wings
And crashed into a cemetery.
She sits up and cries.
And then she laughs
Looking at her statue placed there,
Blowing a trumpet.
The beings have sculpted her so accurately
And they've never even seen her.
The beings have sculpted her so accurately,
They must be gods.
There are no clouds,
But there's mist.
There is no God’s light,
But there's the sun.
This is a miniature heaven,
And she doesn’t have to be an angel here.
Her wings
Her wings have burned away
And she sees herself in the fountain;
She giggles and the water giggles back.
She looks like any other girl.
Finally
She's feel belonged and welcomed.
It’s enough to be human.
Comments
Post a Comment