The last thing an angel feels is falling.
What about a human?
What could the feeling be like? Fall?
I look around and see so few alive,
the rest fallen into their shadows,
sinking in lies.
Not clipped wings but
the spark of their eyes long gone,
just a hollow look a blackness spreading
into this forsaken world.
The few become even less yet they bright
like a beacon of whatever remains true.
Skies falling, war is crying out.
The few suffer and the fallen hide behind
a pile of lies, just a bunch of excuses.
I awake from my frozen sleep and model through,
this war becomes my muse.
All will burn in light, i am here where are they?