Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SONG OR CHARACTERS. All rights to Ed Sheeran and Rick Riordan.
IT'S PERCABETH WEEK! NEXT WEEK IS FRAZEL!
This was the third year he's been watching her. His report for his professor was due in two days and he knew just what to write about. He pulled out his journal and started the first stanza of his poem.
"Lips crackled white, face pale and flooded out.
The snowflakes travelling through her breathes
Lungs burning from the sour taste"
He felt bad for her. No one should be a drug addict. She looked young, beautiful, yet vulnerable. For the second stanza, he decided to write about her experiences.
"No money for electricity,
Anything
She struggled to pay rent
Nights dragged on,
Strange men follow"
He based it on her looks and demeanor. Baggy clothes, no home or food. She was struggling and he could tell. He based his third stanza on her secrets and rumors.
"Whispers about
Her and class A drugs.
Stuck in a daze,
Been this way since eighteen.
Lately,
Her face is crumbling to ashes"
It was true, she looked like death. He heard that she's been an addict since she was eighteen from the rumors in college. She supposedly went to three different Ivy League schools. She got kicked out of one, but ended in another because she was a genius. She didn't like being overestimated, so she did drugs.
"They scream
The worst things in life come free to us.
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly.
Her eyes, weary.
Dehydration swallows her.
Whispers about
Her and class A drugs.
Stuck in a daze,
Been this way since eighteen.
Lately,
Her face is crumbling to ashes
They scream
The worst things in life come free to us.
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly."
On the due date of his paper, he reread it. "I call it 'Rumors'" He said. "That doesn't seem right. It sounds too harsh." His friend said. "What am I supposed to do?" He asked. "I don't know, maybe, uh, make into a song?" His friend answered/questioned.
He smiled. "Good Idea."
"Okay class. The last person to present please." The professor said.
"Professor?" He asked. "Yes?" "I have a guest."
He opened the door to reveal the beautiful, yet sickly blonde. He lead her to a stool in the front of the room. She sat in it and he pulled up a stool to he directly beside her. Taking out his guitar, he started strumming.
"White lips, pale face
Breathing in snowflakes
Burnt lungs, sour taste.
Light's gone, days end
Struggling to pay rent
Long nights, strange men"
She smiled, eyes gleaming. She gestured to his journal on the stand. He nodded and she started singing.
"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
Crumbling like pastries
And they scream
The worst things in life come free to us"
Then he butted in and started singing.
"'Cause we're just under the upper hand
And go mad for a couple grams
And she don't want to go outside, tonight
And in a pipe she flies to the motherland
Or sells love to another man
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly, for angels to fly
Ripped gloves, raincoat
Tried to swim and stay afloat
Dry house, wet clothes
Loose change, bank notes
Weary-eyed, dry throat
Call girl, no phone"
Then they sang the rest together.
"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
Crumbling like pastries
And they scream
The worst things in life come free to us
'Cause we're just under the upper hand
And go mad for a couple grams
But she don't want to go outside, tonight
And in a pipe she flies to the motherland
Or sells love to another man
Its too cold outside
For angels to fly
An angel will die
Covered in white
Closed eye
And hoping for a better life
This time, we'll fade out tonight
Straight down the line
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
Crumbling like pastries
They scream
The worst things in life come free to us
And we're under the upper hand
And go mad for a couple grams
And we don't want to go outside, tonight
And in the pipe fly to the motherland
Or sell love to another man
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly, angels to fly
To fly, fly
For angels to fly, to fly, to fly
Angels to die"
Thank you for reading and please review. This account is only for Percabeth, Jasper/Jiper, Jeyna, Caleo, Frazel, and Tratie. Any ideas for new stories can be suggested in the reviews. Thanks.