Ballad in Plain D

I once loved a girl, her skin, it was bronze
 
 With the innocence of a lamb, she was gentle like a fawn
 I courted her proudly, but now she is gone
 Gone as the season she's taken
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 In a young summer's youth I stole her away
 From her mother and sister, though close did they stay
 Each one of them suffering from the failures of their day
 With strings of guilt they tried hard to guide us
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 Of the two sisters, I loved the young
 With sensitive instincts, she was the creative one
 The constant scrapegoat, she was easily undone
 By the jealousy of others around her
 For her parasite sister I had no respect
 Bound by her boredom, her pride to protect
 Countless visions of the other she'd reflect
 As a crutch for her scenes and her society
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 Myself, for what I did, I cannot be excused
 The changes I was going through can't even be used
 For the lies that I told her in hope not to lose
 The could-be dream-lover of my lifetime
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 With unseen consciousness, I possessed in my grip
 A magnificent mantelpiece, though its heart being chipped
 Noticing not that I'd already slipped
 To the sin of love's false security
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 From silhouetted anger to manufactured peace
 Answers of emptiness, voice vacancies
 Till the tombstones of damage read no questions but
 "Please, what's wrong? What's exactly the matter?"
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 And so it did happen like it could have been foreseen
 The timeless explosion of fantasy's dream
 At the peak of the night, the king and the queen
 Tumbled all down into pieces
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 "The tragic figure" her sister did shout
 "Leave her alone, God damn you, get out"
 And I, in my armor, turning about
 And nailing her in the ruins of her pettiness
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 Beneath a bare light bulb, the plaster did pound
 Her sister and I in a screaming battleground
 And she in between, the victim of sound
 Soon shattered as a child to the shadows
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 All is gone, all is gone, admit it, take flight
 I gagged in contradiction, tears blinding my sight
 My mind, it was mangled, I ran into the night
 Leaving all of love's ashes behind me
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 The wind knocks my window, the room it is wet
 The words to say I'm sorry I haven't found yet
 I think of her often and hope whoever she's met
 Will be fully aware of how precious she is
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 Ah, my friends from the prison, they ask unto me
 "How good, how good does it feel to be free?"
 And I answer them most mysteriously
 "Are birds free from the chains of the skyway?"