Down,down she goes,
To a cold **** she always wanted to know,
And she flies,with horns disrupting the Red Sky,
Passing through human skinned mountains,
Listening closely to the sirens of the desert,
They're pleading for peace,
For their only God to appear,
And destroy the one with Eagle wings,
Horns made of the Saint's bones,
Eyes made from mistery and intensity,
To finally rise over her rage's claws
So then,The Giant Rose will bloom,
When the moon lurks dressing her sword,
No longer her World it is anymore,
But a dream she awoke when the kiss of death began.
This poem is the 3rd poem of the woman's journey to **** it belongs to my poem series BLACKXPOETRY,Enjoy!