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Just an Ordinary Girl


She was just an ordinary girl,
dancing in the garden,
dancing in the moonlight,
red roses added color to her hair.

She sang songs of tribulation.
She sang songs of desolation.
There was no absolution,
no songs of salvation,
no words of comfort
in the cold night air.

The music was the wind,
and a distant mandolin.
She wished for a violin
to make her voice sound better,
to make her songs sound sweeter.

But the violinist
had a broken finger,
and he could not play as needed,
So her voice was cold and ugly,
and turned the world to sadness.

The night gathered darker
and her songs became sadder,
and the roses wilted in her hair.
Her skin was blue and faded.
Her eyes were cold and jaded,
and she wished she was anyplace but here.

She felt like she was a prisoner,
to being just an ordinary girl.
She longed for things beyond her.
She longed for things unknowing.
She longed for someone to love her.
She longed for a lover to care.
She longed to be wanted,
to be thought of as a beauty,
but she was just an ordinary girl.

The roses in the garden
became harder than any kind of stone.
The night birds stopped singing
leaving the ordinary girl all alone.
The mandolin stopped playing.
The night wind blew colder.
The girl was now remorseful
for the things her songs had done.

She wanted to go backwards
to the time of her beginning,
before her songs turned the world around,
But clocks only tick forward
towards the end she’d sang for,
not the one her heart wanted,
not the ones that filled her every dream.

Just an ordinary girl
made a difference in the world,
with her songs of tribulation.
The day would have ended better,
if her songs were of salvation,
if she had begged for absolution.

She was just an ordinary girl
dancing in the garden,
dancing in the moonlight,
red roses added color to her hair.

She sang songs of tribulation.
She sang songs of desolation.
There was no absolution,
no songs of salvation,
no words of comfort
in the cold night air.

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