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.