If I were a character in a book, I would be the lonely child of Pluto. I would have wings that take me everywhere and nowhere. I would have hair as black as night and eye's as golden brown as Celestial bronze. Skin as white as snow and lips as red as blood. My cell, in which I am held, would be made from bones of the fallen angels. My voice as beautiful as a birds song, but as harsh as it's caw. My words sullen, but full of hope. Truly beautiful, but deadly as well. I would be the easiest and hardest to understand. I would be Death itself.
