Beneath a black sky, under the long dead willow,
sits with her back to the trunk, her brown eyes closed,
blue black hair in waves around her bruised body..
she is the fallen angel.

Her broken wings rest folded against ivory skin.
She weeps softly, hugging her arms to her chest,
her breathing slow and ragged,
The image of defeated love.

A strong wind blows, its cold toung lashing at her open skin.
She jerks awake, her eyes flickering slowly to life.
Sighing she runs her fingers threw her hair,
one hand playing with the dying grass beneath her.

Twisting a black daisy threw her long fingers,
she lets her tears fall onto the dead planet benath her,
pressing her bleeding palm over the wet ground,
and the magic soars.

The ground shakes, and she sits there silently,
the soft eyes watching as her creation springs forth.
A huge black and grey tree, its winding arms thrust into the empty sky.
And on its twisitng branches, bloom thousands of black roses.

Slowly standing, her hair falling to cover her used body,
she gently picks one of the glowing buds.
Brushing her tears away she entwines the flower in her hair,
a sighn of beauty for those who come after her.

Lookign back once more at her twisted work of art,
she drifts away, back into the night from wich she wandered.
So goes the fallen angels life,
in her world of forsaken dreams.