Poisoned Angel
What is life but a poisoned angel?
Her black wings clear the night of frozen nothings,
With twisted darkness encroaching on the sill.
'Tis gone! 'Tis but a feather in the air to me, passing by on a tumultuous breeze of secluded grace.
Shackled as I am, draped in chains, I am too weak too chase it.
The multitudinous oceans of the quavering silhouettes of the voices of banished loved ones from the past intertwine with the valleys of the phoenix upon the shores of reality.
The suffix is not ours to claim.
Excluding the incremental failure, what daily profit may be assumed by their catastrophe?
The glimmering song of chance like heather in the wind cuts me down.
Stopped in my tracks.
Her black wings clear the night of frozen nothings,
With twisted darkness encroaching on the sill.
'Tis gone! 'Tis but a feather in the air to me, passing by on a tumultuous breeze of secluded grace.
Shackled as I am, draped in chains, I am too weak too chase it.
The multitudinous oceans of the quavering silhouettes of the voices of banished loved ones from the past intertwine with the valleys of the phoenix upon the shores of reality.
The suffix is not ours to claim.
Excluding the incremental failure, what daily profit may be assumed by their catastrophe?
The glimmering song of chance like heather in the wind cuts me down.
Stopped in my tracks.