Of Black Wings and Black Poems

Angels of heaven and angels of hell,
Angels of death, and living ones as well.
But what if your wing color contradicted your pose?
And you can rightfully say that I was one of those.

An angel of heaven with wings black as night,
Among soft snowy feathers, I was quite a sight.
But my innocence barred me from where I fit in;
Hell, with all of the black and hatred within.

And thus my wings were burned away,
But I had no opinion, no say.
I was left in a place, halfway in between,
Able to watch, but never seen.

God and all his angels, prejudiced within,
Was I the only one, there without sin?
Every one of them, they all belong in flame.
Was this for real, or was it a game?

Still alone, shut down, shut out, put away,
Wanting to talk, but with nothing to say.
Over time, my wings grew back,
Bursting with fire, they were still black...