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Array
(
[sid] => 100966
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Rage of an Angel
[time] => 2005-07-12 12:39:12
[hometext] => Even angel's feel rage
[bodytext] => Sweet, sincere, So pure. Too bad, it's so sad, She'll never find a cure. When the cold winds blow, And the waves rage. This poor solace angel, Remains in her cage. She plays melancholy tunes, Upon her harp of metal. A wilting rose in winter, This shrinking violet has no petals. Her halo rests upon her crown, As the glow dims down low. She can feel the rage build up, As she slowly falls below. As she sleeps behind cold bars, The tears slid down her dirt filled cheek. The silence, the coldness, Has enabled her to speak. She reminisces of past flames, And how swiftly they seemed to go. They all packed up, and walked away, Though through the pain she whispered "no". Staring blankly into the oblivion, She wonders and asks why. Why shes damned with eternal life, And why she just can't die. No matter how many cuts she has, And no matter how much blood she's spilt. This world is hers forever and ever, As she's now racked up with guilt. She glares between the bars, Looking for a piece of life. Seeing nothing, knowing nothing, Except for the peace of her knife. She cuddles that blade so securably, As her tears begin to fade. The silence is now been broken, By the slicing of her blade. She knows that she must suffer, Eternally in this 5 by 5 cage. Now you've heard the anguish, Of an angel's heartfelt rage. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 174 [topic] => 75 [informant] => Pats4eva7 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 4 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => anguished )
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