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Fake Angel

I call myself a messanger,
Though only a passenger.

I do not fly,
Though I try.

My wings beat uslessly,
Reaching out carelessly.

The broken feathers scatter,
Wrought iron nails tatter.

Eyes like deep holes,
No wonder we steal souls.

Heart full of greed,
Though nothing to need.

Crusafix burnt in hand,
Disapears like blackened sand.


Hands like bony claws,
One too many flaws.
Is it to late for me?
©2009 *LaVieenGris
:iconlavieengris:

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:iconprincess-elincia:
Good job Carmen, I really like it :heart:

--
C'est La Vie~♥
:iconflammerthehedgehog:
Good poem my darling i realy like it you realy put your heart in it *Hugs you*

--
''Love Kills Slowly'' but it feels so right....so i can Fade Away

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March 3
664 bytes

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