| Thank you for the comments. I know it's pretty clichéd; that's just how I like to work. *Shrugs*
Now then, a new poem.
Angels
Justified in existence
What are we but damned Angels?
No purpose or meaning in our persistence
What are we but wingless seraphs?
Sainthood in martyr's blood
Dancing on the funeral pyre
Black lace and white studs
Angel's wings burning in fire.
Mere mortal toys
So easily broken, so easily forgotten
Kiss the girls and kill the boys
The only thing left for he with everything.
"He's a rich man,
She's his wife; can't be a harlot."
Damned Angels fallen from the sky
Memories of a past and future spot
Blood for the perfect red dye.
Senseless in our musings
Only in Death do we know the truth
Nothing but a burden, ever confusing
Come to Earth, your Black Seraphim
Damned in Sin
Smell that? Incense in Death, Beauty in horror
Scent of Heaven's hate
The last in burning
Holy fires untouchable
Feathers alight,
T'is the Angel's wings aflame!
-- Griffinhart
__________________ 
"My word is my honor. My honor is my life."
-- Demonchild, Angelkin, the Blackest Seraph, the Final Warrior
"Cut down the Gods if they stand in you way."
-- Hagakure |