She cried and screamed at the edge of that cliff
until she tasted blood in her mouth
and her body collapsed
into the dirt, spent and shaking.
They led her away from the edge,
one officer looking down at the ravine,
her lover's crumpled, broken body
shattered at the base of the cliff.
Two days later, she followed him.

I wonder if we will ever learn our lesson.
We keep trying and trying,
all in vain,
always hurting ourselves...
I guess we are all masochistic in that way.

The prize,
if we try, and after all that hard work,
if it works,
the prize is too tempting to not try.

They threw me from heaven
when the pearly white of my wings
Faded to ashen grey
and darkened further with my mind.

They say the white feathers mirror
an angel's purity and righteousness.
That my blacked feathers reflected
a rotting heart and malice in my mind.

But what righteousness is there
when one being decides
the everlasting fate of many?
What is right and what is wrong?

An angel with blackened feathers
is no longer welcome in paradise.
For once I understand,
There is no justice in faith.

The fallen shall remain fallen,
The disgraced angel shall not return,
But shall instead find the truth and
take comfort in knowledge no longer forbidden.