Another Fallen Angelfallen from grace and acceptancedignity and pride lost because of ignoranceremoved and set in seclusiona problem with no conclusionembraced only by the arms of painoften labeled to be insaneprone to accusationsa victim of eradicationsnot one many would chase afterthought of as a pitiful disasteronce precious to manyno longer loved by anyan angel in disguisethere's more behind such harsh eyesbrilliance behind the maskbeautiful despite the past.
Living is Dyingliving is a nuisance, it burns like fire to live throughout each day knowing thou has come so far and accomplished so little. life is an irony, for living is dying. one cannot have an existence without at least once in that time frame, dying for something either pointless or overly important. death bestows it's awful gifts upon us every day we wake. someone, something, anything can kill us each day, making this so called life, nothing but death in actuality. every tear that has ever rained down from thine eyes is a death, a loss of living, of caring. each and every scar thou has ever obtained through battle, conflict, or self mutilation is a sign of a death, a death of soul. though we apparently consider this frame of mortality "life" it however, is not. it is death. we may still breathe, still think, still have a heart beat, but we are not truly alive for we have died so many times in this existence. when thee bleeds, it is not merely blood that drips from thy wounds, it is