The lost little Angel was fell into the urban slums,
Walking aimlessly with nothing but her broken wings,
Blossom into granules of dusts, intangible as a vagabond,
Her heaven plucked as the moonlight stolen, the intangible vagabond,
Her sanctity made her glowed illuminate those souls who ingested by the slums,
However flagellation in disguise filled the story of her wonderful flawed wings
Trace stitches by stitches of her wings
Her world plays deception in those eyes who marked her as a vagabond
In fact she just an imperfect little Angel and they are the slums
The lost little Angel quit play with the slums, her wings fixed, she is no longer the intangible vagabond
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