Around, all around, the angels gather. My dread grows as the headsman's axe falls against my naked soul. It severs me, and darkly my essence drips to the cold, uncaring tombstones. In a haze of shock I cry out while my doom looms. Now alone, my soul falls upon darkened eyes.
This is my salvation
Submitted: February 08, 2011
© Copyright 2022 SuicideAngel . All rights reserved.
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