Tortured and taunted,
Belittled and haunted,
By dreams long deferred.
Unable to fly,
Wings have died,
An angel, fallen unheard.

She spends her nights,
Under the lights,
Dreaming dreams pre-******.
They scare and remind,
Of pain redefined,
And lend a phantom hand.

She sits and devours,
So many long hours,
Curiously studying the arts.
She thinks she knows,
The highs and lows,
The wretched art of hearts.

Hope resounds,
Dead rebounds,
Filling the void now seen.
With each hit,
Another fit,
Filling the slit between.

Doubts are wrenching,
The metal clenching,
Failing for too long.
It's like dead space,
Switching place,
Between two changing songs.

She acts as though,
She thinks she knows,
The answer and solution.
Time will tell,
Just how well,
She sees through the pollution.

Perhaps one day,
The Sun's rays,
Will fall on her new wings.
One or ten,
Maybe then,
Happiness will ring.

Will flat notes play,
Until that day,
The reopening of the curtain?
The shrinking soul,
The whips and toll,
She must carry the burden.