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Description
Part II: The Nightmare The Demon

A rush of wings
Cries and frantic efforts
Pants, screams
Are they my own or that of someone else?
Before me lie that angel
Wings black with its own blood.
It calls to me, yet I cannot move
I am caged
I see it’s pain I hear it moan
but cannot truly hear nor see these sensations
They are not of my imagination,
yet haunt like tragedies of a time deceased.
How can it call to me so
When it knows I cannot move?
Why would it torture me thus
When there’s nothing I can do.
Feathers dry to scales as the plaster sets.
Pearl turns to stone grey.
Bronze rusts green.
Immobilized.
Only to witness my angel turn to demon
to be it’s own ruin.

Description
Part II: The Nightmare The Demon

A rush of wings
Cries and frantic efforts
Pants, screams
Are they my own or that of someone else?
Before me lie that angel
Wings black with its own blood.
It calls to me, yet I cannot move
I am caged
I see it’s pain I hear it moan
but cannot truly hear nor see these sensations
They are not of my imagination,
yet haunt like tragedies of a time deceased.
How can it call to me so
When it knows I cannot move?
Why would it torture me thus
When there’s nothing I can do.
Feathers dry to scales as the plaster sets.
Pearl turns to stone grey.
Bronze rusts green.
Immobilized.
Only to witness my angel turn to demon
to be it’s own ruin.