Treasure Island

Eric Andrew James


Angel-White


Healing essence from grave depression
The angel sees your soul
He’s smiling and he’s dying but
It’s all needed for the whole

His sauna lost to serve nirvana
Heaven bound to be
Pleating tears with no sobs or fears
He knows what it means to have misery

Rubbing bleeding eyes of needing
He’s ready for his punishment
But unsure he’s responsible to be held renouncable
That this serves the death he’s meant

The healer here has grown surrealer
He’s going to move on
To a better place where he serves his place
The angel white as dawn

Submitted: Saturday, November 25, 2006
Edited: Saturday, November 27, 2010
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