I look at you an angel of the dark;
A beauty with pain trying to make her mark,
Her Music so black, in a well lit area,
Crying for a company, hoping for a gear.
He who makes her blue and wonder for a clue
He who moves the wind and cares to cling.
He who rose through the sparkles on her way
He who makes her louder, faster and gay
He who pushes back to forth her moves.
Her eyes like the winter sleep, so cold and white,
Her glory makes the night sky search for moon light.
From the moment she comes, She brings nothing but a madness
A madness to wail and cry for, a madness to long on.
A naked view his shadows bestowed on her,
Mingling through the night he offered her motion
Yet so still- so mortal and silent after his slip
Sharing her glory, pulling out his pain
One beauty he longed for in his lonely night.

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