Musings of a Broken Mind

Fallen Angel

Amidst the sullied shadows, in the mists of days gone by,

a bitter denigration, leaves the sharpness of her tongue.

Yet as the broken children, of a land once pious, cry,

the battle shout of empaths lead the song their victims sung.

The shadows swallow all of her, her laughter and her grace,

a solemn, sweet reminder leaves its' taint upon her wall,

and only lines of sorrow leave their path upon her face,

a bitter sweet reminder, that the bravest of us fall.

Her beating heart, once filled with love, becomes a darkened bud,

a rose so full of poison that it's leaves doth take her soul,

and if you look beyond her gaze, which no-one ever should,

you'll see the tempest, deep within her eyes as black as coal.

Once verdant green, the unripe quasars, tilted to the North,

her eyes took in the many splendid thoughts of all things pure,

yet as the myths of hatred, and their servants called her forth,

their odium took solace in their newly gifted whore.

Her shadow broke away from her, in horror and dismay,

it couldn't bear to be a victim, trapped within her grasp,

and so she made a victim of, the children of the clay,

and listened to their final screams as God released his clasp.

Her shadow wasn't hers no more, no longer did she care,

her rage on all things sanctified brought horror to her peers.

Yet still, the darkness she became, the coldness of her stare,

shall haunt her many victims, through their loved ones endless tears.

© Copyright Janine Bignell 2014