Falling Angel


A goddess of true beauty walks these halls.
Her eyes are hazel pools with light of dawn.
Her skin as fresh as a newborn fawn.
Upon the sound of her voice an angel falls

In love. She has hair as raven as night
Flowing down her back. She speaks gently,
Her words sway like tides of the dead sea.
Her loving little face looking toward the light.

If she were to stand under the night sky,
Venus would turn green. Julius would call
His armies to seize the love all men fall
For. A martyr's perfect reason to die.

Yet in a window frame she saw great pain
Through her eyes she witnessed a scared figure,
So beaten and bruised. As if a fissure
Had divided her and she begged to be sane

If the wind blew her arms might shatter.
Her eyes are filled with pain and tears,
As her twisted fingers keep gripping her ears
Because the walls keep screaming at her.
She breaks the glass to see it clearer
Only to find the window is a mirror.

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