She is from the past. A bird with human face and kind soul. She was cursed to be locked in a tree cell until the silent Earth will end. She will look at you with kindness and love. She will maybe let you touch her. She won’t talk, at all. She is shy but with a great plan to reach again the glorious sky with her wings as white as her human face and with eyes as brown as her hair.
Maybe she is not what she seems but for now all she can do is to wait for her time, her time to fly from this cell and to show the world what she has to offer. To have her revenge for the curse to be born and lock until the end of silence.
Preper for anything. Good or bad she will do it, in her best way.
The life. You live your life in a cage. With the air you breath. The air that you are tired of.
Each and every day you wake up and put yourself together from the pieces that are broken from the last night and try to define what you are and be in a better shape then yesterday.
But you feel that something is missing. You can’t find the last piece of you. The piece that makes you complete. You start to breath harder and harder. Suddenly you feel the heat burning in your chest and realize that is someone who’s trying to reach you. Your feelings are multiplied and you feel better.
The other piece is there, right beside you and hold you tight and warm. Now you are complete.
Even if you are in a cage in this world, if you are not alone you can conquer the world.
If the world would end she will be happy. All the dark thoughts will be eliminate out of her mind. All the frustations will go away. She will let the time passing by her. The devil will turn to white and put the sun up on the sky.
Released the power of the fairy and let the colors float beside her. When the sun goes down she will be herself and she will spread the pure air that she owns.
If you will love her on the last day of Earth you will live forever in her world of pure souls and you will be released by the fear and live in peace and freedom.
Is like that quick poetry…”When I look into your eyes is like traveling to Mars”. That quick is your look too…
You turn to red. From your short beard to the eyes. Like that really old story about a cruel guy, “Barefaced”. The blood that runs not only through your vines, it’s spread all over. Cold or warm, your skin holds it with thin sheet and not even screaming for healing. A maniac from the Mars desiring for more flash in his eyes.