.
Impenetrable silence greets
as disappointment inside sweeps,
prey to another false start,
a fire needle to the heart.

And the secret twitch of an eye muscle
reveals the depth of pain in rejection,
the shame of being considered disposable
or a stop on the road to perfection.



© Pagan Paul (22/04/19)

She didn't need a feather to fly
She had her own kind of wings
You could see her high
In her eyes
But her sky was the streets
Fly on by
Pretty Angel
Sell your soul for a wing
You could fly
Higher and higher
With the magic of speed
She didn't need a feather to fly
She had her own kind of wings
You could see her high
In her eyes
But her sky was the street
Fly on by
Pretty Angel
Soaring high to be free
Sell your soul to the devils trolls
To reach the sky you need
She didnt need a feather to fly
She had her own kind of wings
You could see her high
In her eyes
But her sky was the streets
Fly on by
Pretty angel
And flap your wings