And I would give you wings
If I felt that you couldn't overcome these things
When you fall down I’ll pick you up
Yes I know that you have hurt, you’ve hurt enough
But you must get up, you must go on
For me, for me you’ve got to be strong*


Where are you,
Bird's tools of survival
Angel's way of transportation
Plane's means of flight

Of course, when needed the most you fail to appear.
And you promised
You promised to give me them,
Why would you lie?

It seems a folly
To think that there ever is a chance of healing
But why would I want wings anyways?
To carry me away from the pain? Only momentarily would it help.

I don't want to heal,
Completely anyways,
Don't want to fly away on my wings,
Because to heal would be to forget everything good about you...

Would be to forget everything good about *us

It never showed its face, never once gave me a sign of nearness

So why can I now touch it, taste it, understand the meaning of its appearance?

I question whether it's healthy, the fact that my mind has so quickly steered me toward this wall.
                           And the word wall does not give proper definition...
                           It's more of a path,
Where this path leads, I must answer in time.
Because time heals all wounds

She cries because it's raining
The makeup trickles down her irrational face,
And she wonders when the sun will come.
I tell her truthfully, when it's ready, though she rejects my input.
She is washing away down into the sewer with every breath,
The place she wants to belong,
With the only things that make sense to her: dead things.
Psychotically, the pistol in her pocket now rests in her palm with its most dangerous point aimed at the middle of my forehead.
And she asks me again when the sun will come,
But I give no response,
Because nothing I say will change her motive.
And she shoots me.