Corpses And Reddened Angels
Once innocence was born
To the coldest ov hands,
Their spirits outworn
In their mental wastelands,
Among the dark she was light
She alone would be worthy
To overcome her blight
And defeat the bloodthirsty.
A Seraph forewarned,
"She will be forlorned
By the darkness ov the hearts
Of men, evermore
The corrupt shall wish
She were never born,
If they have their way
She'll die on their thorns!"
Born into a dystrophic dystopia,
Raised by ruthless minions of the dead,
Angels walk among the living corpses
Of the human race,
Though born pure white,
Tears and fears and death will make them red.
In the spiral ov despair,
(An endless cycle to beware)
Pain, her faithless lover
Gave her sanctuary there.
Agony without to quell the suffering withing,
The feeling ov the razor rending flesh and soul and skin
Provokes her brilliant mind to give its precious endorphines,
Though temporary (like her life) an end to suffering.
Dark and deep just like the night she conjures thoughts of sin,
Her flesh like pallid moonlight laced with scars so red and thin,
Revealing to the darkness her perfection...
Under artificial light in the reality ov night,
From soul to mind to hand she summons words
So writ of dark and light
A worthy gift to match her curse.
Will the moon not rise for her?
Her hand discards the pen,
Disbands the evil light
And takes the razor again.
Her life continued strife for the Seraphim,
"Those fools would see an Angel painted crimson..."
"...The Wretch remains alive!" A hoary echo sang from Hell,
"I'll never have her soul until she's fell.
I'll work on her behind the eyes as one as good as dead
And her heart will be as broken as his neck!"
So in dead night as the moon eclipsed
Came seductive cries ov an incubus
And in the face ov lust we are powerless,
He wrapped his chains around her with his kiss.
So enclosed by his shadow now her light could not be seen,
An aura white and black and darkest red.
Destruction and corruption from his life, a living lie,
Love and life and happiness were dead.
Alone or with another
(Vile creature ov a lover)
Or the cursed steel
With cold and tempting edge...
Through the blindest eyes
He showed her trust and lust and lies,
Despair, her worthless lover
Now could rise.
"Beast of the damned," the six winged Seraph wields his words,
"Go back from whence ye came!" The demon dies upon his sword.
Did she escape her fate?
Maybe her purpose be fulfilled,
Because... reddened by blood
Among the corpses stands an Angel
So she rose (never really fell)
From living Hell,
Reddened by blood
Among the corpses stands an Angel
Reddened by her blood
Among the corpses stands an Angel
***This is about a good friend of mine, someone I was in love with for a long time, but her heart and mind were always somewhere else, and now I wonder if she's too lost to be saved***
To the coldest ov hands,
Their spirits outworn
In their mental wastelands,
Among the dark she was light
She alone would be worthy
To overcome her blight
And defeat the bloodthirsty.
A Seraph forewarned,
"She will be forlorned
By the darkness ov the hearts
Of men, evermore
The corrupt shall wish
She were never born,
If they have their way
She'll die on their thorns!"
Born into a dystrophic dystopia,
Raised by ruthless minions of the dead,
Angels walk among the living corpses
Of the human race,
Though born pure white,
Tears and fears and death will make them red.
In the spiral ov despair,
(An endless cycle to beware)
Pain, her faithless lover
Gave her sanctuary there.
Agony without to quell the suffering withing,
The feeling ov the razor rending flesh and soul and skin
Provokes her brilliant mind to give its precious endorphines,
Though temporary (like her life) an end to suffering.
Dark and deep just like the night she conjures thoughts of sin,
Her flesh like pallid moonlight laced with scars so red and thin,
Revealing to the darkness her perfection...
Under artificial light in the reality ov night,
From soul to mind to hand she summons words
So writ of dark and light
A worthy gift to match her curse.
Will the moon not rise for her?
Her hand discards the pen,
Disbands the evil light
And takes the razor again.
Her life continued strife for the Seraphim,
"Those fools would see an Angel painted crimson..."
"...The Wretch remains alive!" A hoary echo sang from Hell,
"I'll never have her soul until she's fell.
I'll work on her behind the eyes as one as good as dead
And her heart will be as broken as his neck!"
So in dead night as the moon eclipsed
Came seductive cries ov an incubus
And in the face ov lust we are powerless,
He wrapped his chains around her with his kiss.
So enclosed by his shadow now her light could not be seen,
An aura white and black and darkest red.
Destruction and corruption from his life, a living lie,
Love and life and happiness were dead.
Alone or with another
(Vile creature ov a lover)
Or the cursed steel
With cold and tempting edge...
Through the blindest eyes
He showed her trust and lust and lies,
Despair, her worthless lover
Now could rise.
"Beast of the damned," the six winged Seraph wields his words,
"Go back from whence ye came!" The demon dies upon his sword.
Did she escape her fate?
Maybe her purpose be fulfilled,
Because... reddened by blood
Among the corpses stands an Angel
So she rose (never really fell)
From living Hell,
Reddened by blood
Among the corpses stands an Angel
Reddened by her blood
Among the corpses stands an Angel
***This is about a good friend of mine, someone I was in love with for a long time, but her heart and mind were always somewhere else, and now I wonder if she's too lost to be saved***