The air is thick, painted with heavy sighs.
Grasping at straws, no longer with ties.
She sits there waiting.
Darkness, no sunrise.
The air is thick, suffocating with cries.
Moments pass and the next train draws in.
Her carriage awaits, bound by sin.
She sits inside waiting.
Darkness, all cooped in.
Moments pass, left to rot in a meat tin.
Destined for doom, they say.
All she felt was pain, night and day.
She sits in the cold waiting.
An owl girl with feathers that fray.
Destined for doom, too wise to obey.
Wishing her luck would change,
Cawing and flapping, so estranged.
She sits outside waiting,
But there’s no perfect exchange.
They meet. They talk. They part.
Once lovers, now perfect strangers.
She leaves, never looks back,
And silently lets go of her heart.