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Eternal Angel Sleeps
Chelsey Engel |
Black wings shred
Upon a young, fallen corpse
Lying in a large puddle of salt
Left over for too long
Frowned on and forgotten
It has been trampled along
And will be for moons to come.
The ripples once were raging
As the traffic persisted
Then as the scene died down
So did the cracked statue
And the activity soon faded.
Now the only time the puddle moves
Is when the rain pounds
And the thunder howls.
The vultures do not even budge
For the stench of the pain is wicked,
Creating vines-which grow longer
As the sundowns continue to linger-
Until the green is dominant and reigning
And only closed eyes are visible.
The lashes are hardened stiff
And almost frozen
Whether it be in time or in tears,
It remains the same.
The hair is tossled and knotted,
But is still the purest black.
The skin is pale and true,
Not only in color, but in history-
It has suffered many enduring nights,
When saturated rain covered its surface,
Almost drowning it under the pores,
But it survived
Alone.
The lips are chopped
And fractured like the heart,
Which drips through the chest, And the blood is the only
Moving thing in sight
As the body lies through another night.
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