My Broken Angel.
There he sits. Calm and serene. Green eyes sparkling And catching the light. Reflecting it back into the world, With his own mischievous twinkle. Like green glass on the beach. Or an emerald dragonfly, perhaps. I know him. I know he's hurting. They cannot know. He is there for laughs. That is all they see. A walking joke. Can he see my face? A single tear on my cheek. Knowing his pain. No. I am just a face. I blend in with the crowd. But I know what he wishes. To be more than their jester. To be understood. Oh, Peregrin. I, hidden though I am, do understand. If I sit on a cold bleacher, The same one that you sit on, In the cold rain, Will you see my tears amid the water? I will never be any more than any other. But in my heart, I truly only care for one thing. You. He cannot know my one desire. To comfort him on these cold nights. So sit I will. And perhaps, Just perhaps, He will see me. And he will know me too.
He is an angel. Sent from above or beyond. So innocent. Once upon time. Now broken. Can I fix him? My broken angel. Do your wings still work? Can you still fly? The rain of pain. Of hurt. Worthlessness. Empty Purposes. It weighs you down. And the green light in your eyes Goes black. May I be your umbrella. I wish. But you will have no umbrella. Can I melt that heart of yours? That you have hardened against the insults. Fool of a Took! How that must hurt. When you are not a jester, Or a child, They call you a fool. You are a child, truly. But only in age. In readiness. Not in maturity. A broken angel. A child, like me. I am a child But inside I am far beyond their thoughts. I know that in you, I have found another hurting soul. If I could, You would be safe from all the pain in the world. But I can't. How it hurts me. When I know that you are hurting. Broken angel. Will you let me fix you?
There he sits. Calm and serene. Green eyes sparkling And catching the light. Reflecting it back into the world, With his own mischievous twinkle. Like green glass on the beach. Or an emerald dragonfly, perhaps. I know him. I know he's hurting. They cannot know. He is there for laughs. That is all they see. A walking joke. Can he see my face? A single tear on my cheek. Knowing his pain. No. I am just a face. I blend in with the crowd. But I know what he wishes. To be more than their jester. To be understood. Oh, Peregrin. I, hidden though I am, do understand. If I sit on a cold bleacher, The same one that you sit on, In the cold rain, Will you see my tears amid the water? I will never be any more than any other. But in my heart, I truly only care for one thing. You. He cannot know my one desire. To comfort him on these cold nights. So sit I will. And perhaps, Just perhaps, He will see me. And he will know me too.
He is an angel. Sent from above or beyond. So innocent. Once upon time. Now broken. Can I fix him? My broken angel. Do your wings still work? Can you still fly? The rain of pain. Of hurt. Worthlessness. Empty Purposes. It weighs you down. And the green light in your eyes Goes black. May I be your umbrella. I wish. But you will have no umbrella. Can I melt that heart of yours? That you have hardened against the insults. Fool of a Took! How that must hurt. When you are not a jester, Or a child, They call you a fool. You are a child, truly. But only in age. In readiness. Not in maturity. A broken angel. A child, like me. I am a child But inside I am far beyond their thoughts. I know that in you, I have found another hurting soul. If I could, You would be safe from all the pain in the world. But I can't. How it hurts me. When I know that you are hurting. Broken angel. Will you let me fix you?