PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Angel child, so forlorn.

A barb amiss from her crown of thorns.

Since the day that she was born, she was carried in the arms of scorn—sheltered by the arms of lies.

And no one heard her blackened cries..

When the fire that burned inside her, came to crucify her.

Slowly destroyed her mind.

Awareness gone—no remains—just broken wings.

A maddening blank—broken wings.

The ebon angel sings.

Crying tears like rain, locked in her cage.

Terror voices for the pain—broken wings.

Oh, graceful rage.

Fallen seraph, such a waste.

Golden wings are bound with lace.

For in her haste, to leave this place, she forgot that she was wrong.

Lead the choir with her song.

And just stayed put where she belonged.

Saw the wooden structure built, the cross and nails to bear the guilt.

Frustration she felt with herself—never helped—just a broken mind.

Encouraged to fantasy as long as she didn't follow—as long as she didn't leave.

Give it a name.

Some disease.

Sleepless nights and conscious dreams.

Nothing left—just broken wings.