The Melancholy Angel

[Universalchild]

Down inside the darkness
of a twisted lonely mind,
began the end of meaning
with the life she left behind,
now scattered in the moonlight,
which is cast into the past,
where lurks a beast of morose
stalking patient to her last.

Violated garden lies
in ashes of her smile,
each flower stripped of colour
with his filthy lusts defile,
thus rain must fall forever,
leaving marks upon her face,
or as glitter on the cobwebs
like the liquid on the lace.

So her wings are made of dust,
and her eyes are made of glass,
nameless lying bleeding,
weaving words of golden grass,
while white lilies will grow eagerly
amongst remains of sanity,
and pale reflections of her loss
await in groves of vanity.