The Ashen Angel
In the clouds she floats so high.
Her halo a noose; she does not fly.
Neck askew, and head snapped down:
Her unseeing eyes gaze at the ground.
No longer does one hear her wings beat.
The stars and the moon must now retreat.
The sun rises and casts a shade.
The rope snaps; to the ground she is laid.
Her body rots in this anonymous grave.
Not even for love could this angel be saved.
Copyright © Danny Stinson | Year Posted 2011
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