She sat on her burning birthday cake,
Realising that some things do change.
She cries out an ocean, a river, a lake
Drowning everything within her range...
...
It's almost as if the feather stopped turning.
The point hit the mark
Of a pitiful love,
Not decency.
...
While some forgotten ashes scatter,
I become no more than a sick lump,
Coughing up smoke,
Breaking into a chain of misery;
...
In a town of senseless homes
Where she first wrote the story of a lifetime
His sobriquet laid between two Golden Dancers
Underneath a roof of black.
...
The sweetest flames die like angels.
What I once possessed
Is now turned to delinquency.
Swifter now, it falls
...
Your storm came
Then left, with the ships chasing after it
What seemed like normal chatter
Suddenly became violent bickering in your ears
...
Goodbye baby.
Goodbye.
Goodbye.
The words feel sour.
...