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Literature Text
Her skin pale, taut, torn,
Her eyes cast at the mournful moon.
'How long,' She whispers,
Since the day bled out? Since
She'd been alone in the moonlight?
Broken wings folded neatly, she stood.
Bare feet on broken glass, blood
On the cold stone floor.
She looks up again, the shattered roof
Of the abandoned church.
The young priest shudders.
His words lose all meaning, fading
Into the echoes of her whimpers.
A thousand questions voiced at once.
She turns her head, black hair and lace
Falling gracefully around her pale face. With
A single tear drop of crimson blood.
She touches the place her wings once were.
'I...' Her words choke her. How long untill
She can fly again, laugh again, love again?
'I have fallen!' She hangs her head. Another tear.
A thousand discarded feathers mark her path to earth.
A thousand era's to death...
Her eyes cast at the mournful moon.
'How long,' She whispers,
Since the day bled out? Since
She'd been alone in the moonlight?
Broken wings folded neatly, she stood.
Bare feet on broken glass, blood
On the cold stone floor.
She looks up again, the shattered roof
Of the abandoned church.
The young priest shudders.
His words lose all meaning, fading
Into the echoes of her whimpers.
A thousand questions voiced at once.
She turns her head, black hair and lace
Falling gracefully around her pale face. With
A single tear drop of crimson blood.
She touches the place her wings once were.
'I...' Her words choke her. How long untill
She can fly again, laugh again, love again?
'I have fallen!' She hangs her head. Another tear.
A thousand discarded feathers mark her path to earth.
A thousand era's to death...
Literature
Fallen
The little girl came up to me,
And touched my bare back.
"What's wrong?"
She inquired,
Her tiny pure fingers,
Grazing over,
My bloody gashes,
"Are you an angel?"
She asked with her sweet,
Innocent voice,
I trembled,
And clawed the dirt and mulch,
With my strong hands,
"I was,"
I whispered,
But I would not turn,
My face to her,
Because children,
Are as pure as angels,
Which I was no longer,
"I was
?"
She echoed softly,
Reaching down,
And picking up,
A soon dissolving feather,
From the brush,
Where many others also,
Sat scattered,
Quickly fading away,
"What are you now?"
She asked,
Dancing about,
Trying to s
Literature
Fallen Angel
Angel, stop crying
Hey Darling
No more tears
Baby, start smiling
Keep fighting
For those years
When all the world made sense
One more hurdle, one more fence
Chorus:
And I'll climb every mountain
To reach you, all alone
And I'll bring down the walls
To reach you, I'm comin' home
And I'll run those many miles
Fallen Angel, all alone
Honey, don't give up flying
Your wings ain't dying
They're simply torn
And the world ain't talking sense
One more hurdle, one more fence
Chorus:
Bridge:
I won't take no for an answer,
I won't take no for today
I won't stop holding your hand and
I won't let you get away
Angel, quit your hurt
Literature
Demons
Demons
Fate of darkness
Fate of hell
Makes me crawl
Makes me yell
Deep inside me demons hide
and above me, darkness flies
In my heart it hurts
it burns
whatever bright into black turns
When i scream it doesnt come from me
but from a demon who lets me be
My demon makes me live
makes me love
and forgive
My deadly deamon makes me HatE!
makes me realize
my hell for fate
But as much as they can be dark
they can light a hope spark
My demons can show me the way
through the rough times
how to fight and how to slay
How to resist all darkness around me
how to fight what i can not see
And when i lay all defeated and crumbled on
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I've never written a poem before
im not sure... but i think it's about a fallen angel.
I don't do this often :]
well constructive critisism is always welcome...
so comment and ect. Please read it though lol
I wish i had a pretty picture to go with this lol
im not sure... but i think it's about a fallen angel.
I don't do this often :]
well constructive critisism is always welcome...
so comment and ect. Please read it though lol
I wish i had a pretty picture to go with this lol
© 2008 - 2024 flegling
Comments50
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A pretty picture is unnecessary to go with this poem: the imagery of the poem projects pictures in the mind (I'm sure you've heard that before). In my minds eye I see this unfortunate, once divine being, having fallen, fallen; has it in fact taken her thousands of lifetimes--even ages? to reach the very bottom whence she's fallen? Her empyrial splendor--her wings--now in tatters, her raven hair once smooth and shiny, now flat, damp, matted. Has she in fact fallen from a time-length thousands of years away? Is our planet that far from what was erst her home? Her spirits have fallen the same length. Is our world her destination? Is our world indeed Hell? It must be for her. And the priest? Powerless to help. . . .