This is something a little different to all other fanfics, I like to
explore and experiment. This is for Laurie, my darling little a-n-g-e-l.
*~*
Walking softly down the road, footsteps thudding aloud
Head hanging down, anything but proud
Cold chills race through the alley way
Harsh shivers with only teasing words to say
The figure walked at a slow, dragging pace, completely blanketed in black shadows making no sound but the dull thudding of heavy steps not caring who they interrupted.
"It's the poet," an observer, a woman, whispered from the lighter shadows beneath the streetlamp, where she stood with her companion in the middle of the sidewalk, "Make way for the poet," the observer whispered again.
Bloodshot eyes and a broken heart
Foreign to the good times that were torn apart
Alcohol smelling breath, and a drunken walk
With a cracked voice, that finds it hard to talk
The two standing on the sidewalk moved together in one motion, into the deeper shadows, out of the way to watch in concealment as the drunken figure passed them by with out a single glance.
"See his eyes," the second observer, another woman, whispered to the other as they listened to the thudding footsteps die away into the stillness of the haunted night, "See the torn eyes of the poet?" she whispered again as they came out of the darkness.
Always a dull pain, a bleeding scar
And a weary memory that's come so far
The wondrous songs vanish like dust
Just like the endless ravels of trust
Out of the darkness, the two looked at the figure that had paused on the street corner, sculling down the remains of the liquid that rested in the bottle he held to his lips then throw the empty object into the gutter.
"Remember his voice," the first woman whispered in awe as the glass shattered like a little explosion setting off into the silent night and echoed throughout the stars, "Remember the poets beautiful voice," she whispered as the figure stepped off the sidewalk and crushed the glass under his foot as he walked.
It's all been blanketed in hate and illusions
That slowly delves into teasing delusions
Life now seems trapped in a dank and lonely cage
Instead of shining upon a vibrant stage
The figure didn't stop again and the two watched his tall form wander listlessly off into the darkness like a floating leaf drifting away in the wind until the white of his shirt could no longer be distinguished in the night.
"Remember the stage," the second woman said, aloud into the bitterly chilly night air with a slightly deep tremor to her voice like reciting a prophecy, "Remember the stage the poet held his love on," she said gazing off into the street where the figure had vanished.
"There goes the poet," the first woman sung in a soft melody, "Make way for the poet,"
*~*
Walking softly down the road, footsteps thudding aloud
Head hanging down, anything but proud
Cold chills race through the alley way
Harsh shivers with only teasing words to say
The figure walked at a slow, dragging pace, completely blanketed in black shadows making no sound but the dull thudding of heavy steps not caring who they interrupted.
"It's the poet," an observer, a woman, whispered from the lighter shadows beneath the streetlamp, where she stood with her companion in the middle of the sidewalk, "Make way for the poet," the observer whispered again.
Bloodshot eyes and a broken heart
Foreign to the good times that were torn apart
Alcohol smelling breath, and a drunken walk
With a cracked voice, that finds it hard to talk
The two standing on the sidewalk moved together in one motion, into the deeper shadows, out of the way to watch in concealment as the drunken figure passed them by with out a single glance.
"See his eyes," the second observer, another woman, whispered to the other as they listened to the thudding footsteps die away into the stillness of the haunted night, "See the torn eyes of the poet?" she whispered again as they came out of the darkness.
Always a dull pain, a bleeding scar
And a weary memory that's come so far
The wondrous songs vanish like dust
Just like the endless ravels of trust
Out of the darkness, the two looked at the figure that had paused on the street corner, sculling down the remains of the liquid that rested in the bottle he held to his lips then throw the empty object into the gutter.
"Remember his voice," the first woman whispered in awe as the glass shattered like a little explosion setting off into the silent night and echoed throughout the stars, "Remember the poets beautiful voice," she whispered as the figure stepped off the sidewalk and crushed the glass under his foot as he walked.
It's all been blanketed in hate and illusions
That slowly delves into teasing delusions
Life now seems trapped in a dank and lonely cage
Instead of shining upon a vibrant stage
The figure didn't stop again and the two watched his tall form wander listlessly off into the darkness like a floating leaf drifting away in the wind until the white of his shirt could no longer be distinguished in the night.
"Remember the stage," the second woman said, aloud into the bitterly chilly night air with a slightly deep tremor to her voice like reciting a prophecy, "Remember the stage the poet held his love on," she said gazing off into the street where the figure had vanished.
"There goes the poet," the first woman sung in a soft melody, "Make way for the poet,"