ANGELS ii
Angels die with crippled wings.
Their hearts melt into a golden pot of fire,
Their flesh skinned to show a majestic boney white,
And their bloodied tears roll down mercilessly without a fight.
(m.a.a.)
YOU ARE READING
We Are Ethereal
PoetryLet me tell you a tale of the dreamers, passionate souls, and the ethereal.
