The rhythm has finally changed
You never expect it so soon
Suddenly neither one cares
When one has an open wound
From where it came matters not
What steps will you take to heal?
Disappearing in the imaginary abyss won't help
unless coming back with something real
The winged sap wades alone
equipped with a razor sharp edge
only when she flies does it dull,
softening to become fully fledged
Singing to herself across the break
as she coasts closer to the peak
Time passes by another week
Another long time and still no sounds
And in that silence, she drowns