The Angel

Careful with the image she portrays

She sold her soul, she lost her way…

Her withered will, she couldn’t fill,

so…the fair girl, she’d planned to kill….

With that inside, she’d tried to hide,

But couldn’t quieten its shrill!

Gauntlet of a hollowed soul;
Upheld form of her vicious stroll;
She’d hold her face bruised and alarmed,
While inside, a silent rancor swarmed.
It gnawed her shape and made her gape,
At evil thoughts of the angel’s rape!

She planned, obsessed, to rid the pest
That made her smile with such a grace
…”I want her gone without a trace!”
Sickly her mind spat out;
In her plans, there was no room for doubt.

The angel watched with her wise eyes,
Said nothing, made no breaking tries;
Shining poise from every pore
Gave in to darkness she’d adore.
Smiled, patting the beast’s head,
She’d be a saint, even if she was dead.

She didn’t care, she loved this critter
That seemed to spawn disgusting litter.
She loved her faults and all her worries
She laughed at how the image scurries…
For she knew it’s all a childish game
A shallow try, a chance for fame.

Shrewd angel of a battered bosom
Turned the white beast into a sanctum
It fought! It yelled! It scratched! It cursed!
But in the end, light had immersed
The hallow soul without a goal
Had overcome its devious role.


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