Dark Angel Poem by lindsey ashton

Dark Angel

Rating: 3.8


Alone in the forest, not a bird or a bee,
Crowded by weeds and the overhang tree,
She sits on a swing made of old wood and vines,
Swinging backwards and forwards, she never smiles.
Her once white featherd wings have grown old and worn,
Her once pretty dress is now dirty and torn.
Her legs are bloody from the thorns as she swings,
Her feathers are shedding from her darkened wings.
Her eyes are black and so is her soul,
surrounded by sadness, she cannot let go.
She's constantly swinging, she never sleeps,
She's constantly bleeding, she never weeps,
She haunts the forest, her mind unstable,
With her expression of hate, she is the Dark Angel.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Chris Newlash 12 October 2008

This was absolutly beautiful great job!

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Lynda Robson 29 October 2008

Good flow to this one, a tale of a fallen angel, well done. 10 Lynda xx

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Elle B 24 October 2008

Impressive, beautiful, lovely rhyme... Great job

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Elizabeth Peterson 23 October 2008

Gorgeous. Haunting, even. wow.

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Lindsey Ashton 13 October 2008

Thanks for your comments, appreciated :)

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Silence Dogood 12 October 2008

Absoulotly beautful not what I expected at all great write :)

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lindsey ashton

lindsey ashton

wigan, manchester UK
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