She told me she wouldn’t be mine.

Such insolence from such a common girl.

Perhaps she knows that, while common,

She is nothing but common.

She is something rare, and I don’t know what,

And I suppose I never will.

I am on fire,

Hotter than the forge,

To be shown this brand

Of disrespect, by a girl in the foolish bloom of youth.

So foolish, the bloom of youth.

 

I told him I’d never be his.

For I am in love with a secret.

I have been shown the magic of this world,

And now can never be a common man’s wife.

I’ll never live the common life.

The common life has already burned,

Like the coal that heats his forge.

I am the iron that has melted

To take a new shape.

I am molded by wings,

Those great, dark wings,

That took me far away,

In the moment I first saw them.