A Dying Angel Falls To Hell


The surface of heaven isn’t soft cloud,

It is smooth, hard, cold, agate,

An angel’s body cracks like porcelain if she
collapses in sin,

She is hollow inside like an ornament,

Apart from her bittersweet blood,

She is on Lucifer’s aide memoire of things to

Her pent-up resent just won’t relent,

She thinks emotion is a crime,

Lucifer will turn her, distort her mind,

A paltry of faithlessness dances at the back of
her mind,

Lucifer preys on this,

He devours her mind,

Until she perpetrates,

And is no longer of any use to God,

Discarded like an unwanted ornament…

The End

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