Fallen Angel
From the top of a towering build of glass and steel. In the city with no heart, sirens and lights echo and run rampit down below. Ice cold winds of a unforgiving thousand years whip threw the stail building tops. A gray mournful sky hangs above the city.The sun never seems to shine in this place of cold steel and stone. She stands high above and thinks the people remind her of ants far below. How useless there lives are scurrying here and there with no real meaning. Just as her own. The love, meaning, the peace it was gone from her. The only desire that her heart had left was the black silence of eternity. Embraced by the abyss with one flying leap. Away from the world that binds her. She inches closer to the edge the tips of her bare feet hanging over the edge catching the cool air in between her toes. The soft white tatters of her torn dress blow softly in the wind. A sad symbol of her innocence and purity cruelly, tattered and torn from her. Her blackened hair flows softly about her shoulders. This world had given her no joy and in it she knew only pain. With one gracefully leap she is free. Free to fly to have her body sore toward the shining lights below. Like the lights of heaven's gate. Closer and closer to the earth her body plummets. The syrians and nosies from below grow louder and louder. The lights grow brighter and brighter. What was thought to be the warmth of an inviting eternity. Slowly turns to the blinding flames, the heat of hell the syrians into the screams of torched souls. And with that is was over. Her body slammed into the hard concrete far below. Beautiful and broken she lay. The last hope and love for this barren wasteland of money and meaning less power.
By Amanda Collins
By Amanda Collins