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