The wings of an angel drift through the air. Coal smudged down their rigid white feathers. Poison smothered in their roots. And love... Broken through the core. One wing starts to plummet, carving scars into clear blue sky for all to see; any trace of pure ness crashes onto concrete as the first feather lands. Jet black, hard and cold. The spine torn into fragments of nothing. Yet the world echoes around it, everyone and everything bowing before darkness.
For it longer belongs to an angel but a demon.