A Fallen Angel
Heaven was crying the night
that I first saw her.
She was tattooed and painted
with mascara and scarlet lipstick.
And raindrops morphed into teardrops;
trickling down her youthful face.
Something about her was different,
she seemed out of place.
And in a shaky voice,
a fallen Angel propositioned me.
Seeing the tears swell in her eyes,
my heart began to break.
She looked so scared.
Homeless, forced to live on the street,
she did whatever it took to survive.
I could not fault her.
She deserved my pity,
not my condemnation.
So I slipped her some money
and wished her well.
Even Angels need to eat.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018
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