One day the Angel fell,
Betrayed by the one
Loved most.
Betrayed because the one
Loved most didn't feel like
Staying around after
He created something:
Something most boast of.
The Angel, once
White and pure,
Is now blackened by the
Fire she was cast into.
Forever damaged, the
Angel still carries around what
He created.
She loves what He created, even though
She is corrupted she still has
Purity, and with that she makes
The Creation Her's.
No, She will not
Waste any on ones who may
Corrupt Her or Her Creation.
Her Creation now, not His.
She's the one who continues to
Nourish and create, not Him.
You cannot simply throw seeds and not
Water them.
Of course, He was not planning
On the seeds growing into anything.
Not anything that could fly through the Night with wings
Gilded by the
Love of that Fallen Angel.
YOU ARE READING
The Chronicles of My Addiction
PoetryA collection of poetry I wrote when I was addicted to the sadness that a love brought upon me.
