By Strange Angel

The night’s velvety blanket fell,
Capturing me in my personal hell,
As I screamed with my silent voice,
I realised I had lost my choice,
And as the hours passed me by,
I felt my secret talent die.

No star-crossed lovers found each other,
The weeping child had lost its mother,
As fire fought ice, and heaven fought hell,
No wondrous stories I could tell.

Everything inside me screamed,
And ripped me from my writers dream,
But me and him, we’re a great pair,
We make the intricate ladder of despair,
A personal record, a memory on skin,
But I don’t lose sleep because of him.

And as the crimson lyrics ran,
Like oil in water, my thoughts began,
The art in words of poetry,
Seeped in through wounds, returned to me!

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