Beauty more than you can tell,

Something that may ring a bell,

You look at her, but you don’t see,

The angel she was known to be.

Not good enough for anyone,

What has that demon done,

To make an angel feel like this,

A feeling that she sure won’t miss?

You see her face but not her soul,

You cannot see the sadness so cold,

You are blind to all these things,

You are blind to even her wings.

Her wings are white, and purer than pure,

Her wings are sadness’s only cure,

But you do not know, for all you care,

That girl is no longer there.

She is gone, with the breeze,

She is gone as sudden as a sneeze,

You didn’t listen to her cries,

And still you don’t listen as she dies.

She whispers to you from time to time,

A silent question that is mine,

That one thing that she asks you,

 “Is helping others that hard to do?”

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