O tempest tossed and flung about

As hellish winds howl all around

And rain drowns out the fearful shout

Stranding her lone soul on the ground,

A lost angel with broken wings

With nothing but her eyes to cry

Like a puppet whose master, wry,

Would have gone mad and cut the strings.

Be sure: once more will dawn her smile,

Her heart will learn to live again

Though not ere many a trial

And endless, desperate bargain…

She has been branded by nature

In ice and stone so long ago,

This beautiful, fragile creature,

Will no more run, neither forego.




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