PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Foggy breeze,

optical illusion blurry not very  clear,

fiction or non can really tell, I begin,

a beautiful day,

an angel sits next to the form of oxygen provided to the world,

attaches the branches to his veins, receiving life,

oxygen to breath and rest for minutes past,

in a graveyard this angel sits and waits,

loneliness the only thing in sight,

only the tombs which many people are now at rest,

hear a angry voice from the back,

grasping the branches,

detach them from the angels veins,

angel scared grasping for air,

dark object obtains his left wing,

he shreds it and sets on the floor,

faced slashed, body decapitated,

thick and red substance forms 3 tombs a head,

one has marked youth, second young adult, last has angels last name,

searching for life creates a perfect line,

points to the birds flying to the sun over the horizon,

a sign he cant talk he wanting to fly,

to save himself from the evil form who hiding himself between the branches of life,

all is clear, awake, screaming in pain,

light from the underground,

last tomb opens is closed door,

80% of the flesh is torn apart,

soil attaching to the veins and nerves,

I realized I am wide awake, realizing not an illusion,

not a dream, I saw myself been killed,

I am not no angel without sin cause that form was buried,

and It was not a dream