Well, it's me again! And I'm back with a sucky song-poem-whatever thingy. Never done this, so I hope it's not too horrible! On that account, I'd like to say that I own everything in this world, since everything originated in…
Nah, just kidding. Oh, how I wish. Disclaimers: I own almost nothing in this. Including the song, A Team, by Ed Sheeran. Nor do I own the Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus Series. I do, however, get to own my very own OC- Venezia. AKA Venice. Shh…
White lips, pale face
Breathing in snowflakes
Burnt lungs, sour taste
Light's gone, day's end
Struggling to pay rent
Long nights, strange men
She was the most innocent out of all of them, it seemed.
But that doesn't necessarily mean that she was innocent.
It just means that it seems.
Lèvres blanches, visage pâle
L'inhalation de flocons de neige
Poumons brûlés, goût aigre
, Fin de la journée de la lumière gone
Luttant pour payer le loyer
Les longues nuits, les hommes étranges^
She screams, at night.
Hides in the shadows, as they all do.
Crying for her loved ones, those who she lost, gone to the past.
And they say
She's in the Class A Team
Stuck in her daydream
Been this way since eighteen
But lately her face seems
Slowly sinking, wasting
Maman, Papa. Elle, Sir Busies. Lady down the Road, Girl In the Next-door-Window.
Where'd you go, Where'd I go? Where's the Kitties, by the Road?
Answer my, my pleas. Why not, oh right.
You're gone, lost, to that far-away past.
Et ils disent
Elle est dans l'équipe de classe A
Coincé dans son rêve éveillé
Vous connaissez de cette façon depuis dix-huit ans
Mais dernièrement, son visage semble
Enfonce lentement, gaspillant*
Maria, Lisette. Silena, Jo-Ann. Apollo Boy, Mitchell's Friends.
Now I know, I think, maybe just a bit. But is truly better, there, far away?
Answer me, my pleas. Why not, oh right.
You're gone lost, in this cold present.
The worst things in life come free to us
Cause we're just under the upper hand
And go mad for a couple grams
And she don't want to go outside tonight
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly
Piper, Mitchell. Drew, Venezia. Unborn-Baby, Not-Here Fun.
Will you ever come, will you stay? Where is that laughter, in the coming years?
Answer me, my pleas. Why not, oh right.
You're gone lost, in the never coming future.
Lespires choses dans la vie viennent à nous
Parce que nous sommes un peu moins de la main supérieure
Et fou pour quelques grammes
Et elle ne veut pas aller à l'extérieur, ce soir
Il fait trop froid à l'extérieur
Pour anges à voler+
Maybe, you're up there, with my daydreams, eating fluffy pastries.
Can you hear me, can you see? Feel me as I run and cry?
Should I lose hope, say good-bye?
My tears rain, soaking, bleeding red stains. Too young for this ringing.
Should I run, should I try?
Deep there, I know you're waiting. Near the future I'll never have.
Singing, crying. Telling me to never, ever stop.
Yup, so this is it! Sucky, I know. If you can't guess, since this is not obvious at all, it's supposed to be Lacy. Cool fact: She's also mentioned in the Kane Chronicle! Page 72, I think. I'm not so sure what the title has to do with the poem, but it made sense.
Translations:
White lips, pale face
Breathing in snowflakes
Burnt lungs, sour taste
Light's gone, day's end
Struggling to pay rent
Long nights, strange men
*And they say
She's in the Class A Team
Stuck in her daydream
Been this way since eighteen
But lately her face seems
Slowly sinking, wasting
+ The worst things in life come free to us
Cause we're just under the upper hand
And go mad for a couple grams
And she don't want to go outside tonight
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly
Ta-Da! The End!