When I was four I heard a story
About how demons & Angels fight for glory,
Demons were black& Dark and Angels were nice
Angels were beautiful and demons had to hide.
The glory isn't real but in themselves
And so were angels and demons
Well, that's what they tell.
Black was a Dark color & Darkness was for demons
Where angel go to church & say amen.
But this world is as twisted a a snake in go,
You may think you know it all but they don't think so.
I was sixteen when I finally realized,
Black isn't death but the happiness of mine
Demons of dark don't always have to hide,
Angels are not always pretty and some demons are nice
The death is not the end of ones life.
When people talk they don't think,
And they don't talk when they think.
Beautiful faces is all this world cares for,
If you're not pretty than be scare of
They'll hate you if you'd be different
But lecture about individuality the most
Then they pretend that they care
but as soon as you're in trouble
They're first one to ghost.
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wIngS ThaT cAn'T flY √
Poetry... and then i will swallow the words again, Wishing for a thousandth time That you could read my mind." ‹Some Thoughts I try to pen down.› • Highest Rank #42 •
