Fallen angelspublished: 2011-07-10
All over there is sadness. Over and over again. A circle of years that breathes down your neck and trips you.
There is beauty too, all over. A friend’s kiss is as gentle as a butterfly’s wings. As meaningful as a message carved in stone.
And there is this: the midget resurfaces from hidden years. She sings the same songs. Her voice is now weak, her passion depleted. Her legs are heavy as she dances. Once upon a time she was one of many on the streets, now she is nearly extinct. And she is tired of it, so tired of her song.