"And after all, I was just a fallen angel."
Words that gets through me,
With a dream where I went through it.
Dying as I write this poem, feeling as being swollen.

Everything was all just a test,
When I just needed a rest.
"How can a beautiful soul become a fallen angel?"
I know too much, for I have sinned.

My body is destroyed, yet my soul is still standing.
Despite being considered perfect,
I was lucifer, the fallen angel, rebelled against my own blessed.


Why are so many are startled by my drastic shift?
They say I turned into a horrible monster,
When I was once called the most beautiful angel.
Don't be too shock,
The Devil has many faces.