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Reminiscing to run-down songs from my childhood days, a broken angel on the run.
My fingers hurt from clicking buttons all day, my shoes worn from forced play
The woods deserted, nature untouched, everyone is inside, the forget-me-nots whispering hush
Am I the first in centuries to visit this place, overrun by flora and fauna, the kingdom of all living things?
A bittersweet fact it is indeed; I am left the caretaker, queen of the weeds.
My unkempt hair adorned with a crown of holliberries, my voice gentle and barely above a whisper.
Who needs to go back to the Place, this kingdom clearly needs me.
Though being driven by need is what brought me here in the start;
The people of the Place ate at my flaws and tore my very being apart; mocking another angel fallen.
A young fawn approaches me as offer a morsel of food, I take of my shoes and approach the clearing of the kingdom.
In a moment I understand, I really knew it all along.
This is my mission, my destiny, the sinful angel giving birth to her seedlings.
As the Place takes more and more of beauty away, I will keep my kingdom safe.
The Place is becoming a distant memory; they call me crazy; yet the luckiest one is me.