We Live in Lonely Freedom

Verilidane Hawking.

Black feathers fly from the fallen angel's wings
He cannot control is decent
He is shouting,shouting something only his true love can hear--
But his love will not listen.
Love,the saddest lament.
It is the death of him,his freedom.
People watch in horror and amaze.
Their staring,gasps,
Catch in the breeze and carry to him,like his feathers on the wind.
His true love,the storm,watches him with a stifining gaze,the turns.
Another has stolen him,but he will not believe.
Lonelyness,must you torment--your cruel jokes hurt the soul.
But,you must learn,replies Lonelyness,That we all live in lonely freedom