I sit on the bench,
A bench built upon the past
Rolling films
Appear in the far right side of my sight
I sit in fright
Drowning in the tears
That's built a dam in my heart
From the years of being apart
From what I can't call myself
But the desire I want to be.

The wind nudges at me
The trees say, "turn and look"
"It's just a fluke,"
Murmurs the gremlin
that has settled in the bottom of my heart.
All around me telling to look up,
But the blood running in a trance.
Pacin' back and forth.
Twittlin' his thumbs.
The pigtails and ribbons
He once wore upon his head.

Drifts off,
And sails away
In the distance I can see
Sharp cheek bones
Burning eyes
And ash for hair
With two bones
Sitting upon the ashes.

He starts running,
A charging bull
Craving it's pray
I look to the right
And I see a glimmering arrow
Glowing in the sun the trees allow
And to the left
He forces two hands upon me
My feet fly in the air
My back's pulled down
And I fall
Off the bench.

I slightly sit up
And see...

In the chest,
The arrow stands
He looks at his hands
Flesh filling his palms
He gives out a wail
To gods dethroned angel.