Some are my
angels
Halo'd and winged
Others my
demons
Horned and singed
These words I speak of,
these ill-fated feti,
doomed remnants on the yellowed page.
Lie lonely,
and shawled
found in attics and cobwebbed mem'ries long gone
in scrapbooks and photos of loved ones moved on
Wicked words can devour
the feeble and weak
as they bump into walls in the night.
Sightless,
and hushed
Yet there was once a vision
They once had a voice
And I am not God.
The weak make their own choice
Mar 28, 2025
Mar 28, 2025 at 8:01 AM UTC
Some are my
angels
Halo'd and winged
Others my
demons
Horned and singed
These words I speak of,
these ill-fated feti,
doomed remnants on the yellowed page.
Lie lonely,
and shawled
found in attics and cobwebbed mem'ries long gone
in scrapbooks and photos of loved ones moved on
Wicked words can devour
the feeble and weak
as they bump into walls in the night.
Sightless,
and hushed
Yet there was once a vision
They once had a voice
And I am not God.
The weak make their own choice
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