Wings of Butterflies

Her tears of pain never seemed remembered
she was stolen by the silence in their eyes
an angel in the city of starlights that shimmer
how could anyone tell her when she cried
she was unlike the rest with her wings of butterflies

we know the rotten ones messed up on their way home
home to the only place they'd ever really known
even though they only wanted to be everything they'd dreamed
now they're setting sail off these shores
just wanting a reality they can call their own

because she knew it's what she was meant to be
a writer, an actress, a singer at only three
now her tears are only shadows, she is too thin to wear a dress
and she worries that the sweater hides mistakes she wont confess

in the corners of halls where were the lonely children
wrapped up in their sorrow, will they ever be forgiven?
he cries because he knows he messed up this time again
she's got her nerves unwired, if only she could get it right
she just wants to be happy but she knows it always lies

when these shadows become faces and reflections of the past
all the memories, the ghosts of them, start to get the best
she wants to dissappear because she's tired all the time
so she lights up her cigarettes and flicks the lighter with her pain
she will do it just to feel the bliss of this escape again


"you're just as gorgeous as a dancer" he says through a fog of sleep
but she only feels like cancer when she looks at what she sees
all the scratches and the bruises, the sun wont make them fade..
is this loneliness or is it something that she must now convey
to the crowd of soul-less observers, watching with dismay

sleep alone in a house that hates you for your skin
or in the gutters with the angels high on hopeful wishing
she's neither made it back to the place she would belong
now they sneer and hold regret as if it were wrong
and for now silently weeping, always when they arrive
if only she could be like those little butterflies
and just flutter like an angel up into the shimmering sky