Wings of an Angel

He was just a little boy
With wings so small
They seemed fake.
But he could fly high up the sky
And effortlessly give his help
To the ones who needed it the most
So pure his heart was
That he knew nothing of hate
Nothing of cruelty and pain.
He could see faces filled with tears,
hearts drown in sadness
but he knew nothing of these feelings,
they were just bad.
Just like what a child would say,
so pure his small heart was.
With wings so white as snow
you'd never imagine darkness would ever touch him.
Yet now his wings are painted on a canvas
with a baby blue outline and splashed with black.
His sadness and his pain,
the friends and family he lost,
the cruelty of adulthood
to never be able to stay pure.
A lost lamp with wings so small,
yet always warm,
ready to shield the hearts of others
and grace them with their warmth.
So pure an angel he was,
and yet his wings were no longer white.
Darkness had welcomed him
but he would always remain pure.