With my desire,
Of a true angel that would come without fire,
She sings,
With such a miraculous ring
My heart uprising,
And my smile reviving
Our hearts were in vine
And as such, intertwined
And so came with
Every heart’s good myth
That love can sing
With such a silent shattering

What promise,
Sang she, with such great pompous
Her song in each part
Sang in each angel’s heart,
Her love for my being,
Was only in specious seeing
My thoughts of my dream,
Were such, that amazing beam,
Of glorious light that shown,
On our hearts that shan’t ever be blown
A dream that existed in my love,
But birthed nothing but a white rubber glove

And as I sit in thought,
Only to look in distraught,
To find that my heart,
So cold and torn apart,
Lay there in so great a many piece,
And the wind came with such a great please
And whistled its whirling hurt-care-blind song,
As if anything wasn’t left to be wrong
And so came with,
Every heart’s good myth
That love can sing,
With such a silent shattering

And such, a shattering heart, a scream too piercing to linger near,
Is the loudest quiet that quiet could ever hear.