He stands
alone.
I stare up and
his ghostly figure shines
in the pale moon's light.
He cries and the tears drop
d
o
w
n
a waterfall of pain.
My hands are cold
but I know his heart is colder
with fear.
He fights
with his voice
s
o
b
b
i
n
g
I cry
like a baby
and he steps
off
the building
which flies by.
F
a
l
l
i
n
g
On the side
of the angels
but born without
wings.