Cold empty eyes stare down
At the ones who are different
The ones who stand out from the crowd
They are considered fallen
Fallen from grace
Fallen from society's ranks
Their voices are forced into silence
By screams made up of words dripping with hatred
Hurtful names label the voiceless
Tears fall within the shelter of darkness
As the same words cycle through their minds
Over and over again
Growing louder with each revolution
With each day that passes
The list grows inside their heads
One by one the fallen become Angels
As they press razor kisses into their skin
Until one by one they each gain wings
Departing from this cold world of pain
The cold eyes so-called perfects
Begin to dance in joy
Warmth defrosting ice hearts for a while
Filled with joy that the fallen are gone
But from the heavens above tears slip down
The faces of angels
As they weep for the ones below
The true fallen
Taking part in the fool's game
As the cycle begins again
YOU ARE READING
Black Box
PoetryInside you will find a collection of poems that I hope will help you find some sense of peace. If you like what you read and want more you can follow my Tumblr @pale-rosewritings
