Then suddenly, my broken made a sound.
An audible sound.
My ache. Was no longer just in my head, it's was echoed through the universe.
Suddenly you can see, suddenly I could see.
And in that minute it all became real.
The shadows grew body's,
The grey clouds grew sky's
The demons? You asked.
The demons called on the devil to come home.
It was her turn to invade,
It was her moment, her final show.
It was hers now. My body. My soul. My mind.
The Angels have fought, and God has spoken.
But the human, the battle ground, has breed weeds instead of flowers.
Pured oil instead of water.
Breathed carbon instead of oxygen.
Has lit the fires of hell upon they ground.
The battle has ended and the cage is still locked.
The only sound is that which we call pain, she lays on the floor in the center of it all.
Wings to the ground, voice to the sky.
Agony echoing through her vocals.
The battle is lost.
But God says the war has just begun.
YOU ARE READING
Salvaged Soul
Poetry"The mind is a beautiful servant but a dangerous master" It said "so i must then let it serve my soul" I whispered A salvaged soul is not new, it is old. It has lost and is still losing but is no longer who it was when it first broke. To be one step...
