Have you ever felt so touched?
Scarred by something that leaves a permanent mark.
And made that scar a part of yours,
Like the dust accepts the souls.
I met a girl on a cold December night,
I looked at her as her face shone by the lamp’s light. 
You know how these gifted people are?
Stuck to the ground but ideas above up far. 
She was one from the glorious pack,
Like the queen of spades from the deck. 
Studded with stars but scarred by luck.
She had this power to move mountains and empty the sea,
The power shining a heart in agony. 
Like the moon has its halo,
Giving light all around but itself in shadow. 
She too had the same fate, 
She was bad luck’s favourite bait. 
But oh wasn’t she the best I have seen.
Voice like that could make the gods weep,
And make the souls bleed. 
How is it to make it a part of your life?
Could you do that? 
Be gifted and yet not know of the gift you have.
She suffered from it everyday,
Creating masterpieces like it was a play. 
I think God works in a similar way.
Doing miracles and act like it’s just another day. 
How does it feel I ask?
Doing something only you can do, 
And letting that something burns the heart out of you.