They arrive - at the brightest times
Angel Incarnate - a facade they practice to be
Guised in a white cloak - a devillish face
Masqueraded with a true-blue mask
A loyal, friendly smile - all feigned and painted red.
They arrive - when you climb high
Meandering through the crowd
And offer their sincere wishes
Theirs, is the loudest appaluse
You hear from the stage.
Theirs, is the hand you first shake
When you descend from the stage.
Yet in the darkest times,
When you are confined to a corner,
Careworn and depressed - with tears of desolation,
Waiting for a light
They arrive - and rub their cold hearts together
Hearts of stone - infused in ice - cruel and harsh.
They light the brightest candle
And finally a fire as scorching as the sun
They push you in - and watch you scream
Watch you suffocate - and watch you die in flames.
They collect your ashes
And sprinkle them in a confetti shower
And grimace in glee - as your brightest Dark Angels..