White Dove

Take me as I am,
Or leave me to fry.
In this burning hell,
Filled with all the lies.
The pain of an ending love,
Consumes the soul of this white dove.
Singing softly till it dies,
Then burns for all the untold sighs.
Heart break and tears till the end,
There's no longer time to pretend.
Fait so twisted for this little dove,
Can no longer fly high above.
Lying dead ends the song,
Of a little white bird that didn't belong.