Still she turns away, as she see shapes and curses come her way. She tries to hide, half expecting the future to pass her by. Because somehow its all lost... and a search has started to find the pieces of her broken wings. She tries to take flight and again lands among the mortals, her missing wing a signal of defeat. Confusing tales remind her of a past not far from here, where she lent her wing to a stranger who ravaged her kindness with bitter neglect. Particles fall like rain between them, missing pieces of a puzzle that no longer betrays her. She gently stares at the stars who she will never experience close once more, the sky whose breath she will never again feel, and whose moon wont craddle her to sleep. As she wanders through the pages of this old books she weeps for the stories that cant never be built back up. And the stranger? still rumiging the streets for crumbs, perhaps wishing he never tantalized her.
"There it is, just another puppet"