Sitting there on broken wings
with nothing to do
and nowhere to go,
she said, "I have no home"
and no family who loved her.
She made me laugh,
being such a drama queen.
The sad part being, she was right,
but she was never alone.

Dressed with golden hair,
turquoise beads,
and orange purse,
she wore a hurtful stare,
the Gypsy's curse.
She was the sun,
who danced with the moon
and stuck on other stars
who needed more room.

Cruel beginnings;
she lost everything in life.
Her aunt took her in,
to flee from all the strife.
Her mother was dying
and she wanted to live,
but her remaining world was shattered
when her angel was killed.

She laughed her pain away.
She thought she was all right.
Everyday she smiled,
but she cried every night.
Friends were her one true family
and that was all she knew as love.
She believed in another angel,
a teacher from above.
Obsessed with this new seraph,
she said she'd take her in,
but deep down inside
she always knew the truth;
life would never begin.

Living with a cheerful flower child
would often irritate her.
Her guardian was peaceful, ditzy and artistic,
but at least she brought her in.
She'd preach to her about staying in line,
but my dear friend was rather interested in sin.
I would wonder if she ever valued her,
for she'd yell and give her that hateful glance.
Being her friend, I didn't want to anger her,
but I also wanted her to give them a chance.
She often confused me
by what she decided to keep inside.
She'd dance and run and sing and twirl,
but her feelings of sadness and pleasure she'd hide.
Yet, I can't forget that she'd always show her hatred
and that I also didn't understand.

Three fiends also lived with the hippie
and she'd endure neglect from them.
She became jealous over the
Fairy who kissed the African Prince.
Longing for love,
she grew infatuated with those boys with the long hair,
but hasn't talked to them since.

As I became more distant,
she began to understand
that I very much loved her,
but was afraid of the issue at hand.
I thought she needed more than I could give her,
however, I was very much wrong.
She called me on the phone
and sang her stunning song.
Everyday she said, "I love you"
like a sister, she was my precious friend.
Tomorrow, we'll talk about butterflies
and flying away to gaze at the end.

03/28/2005

Author's Note: She was truly alive...

Posted on 03/29/2005
Copyright © 2024 Rebecca Lin