Allison Wesson

Rookie (02/17/1992 / Dallas)

Black Angel - Poem by Allison Wesson

The nearly dead fall
Into spirals
Of black and musty brown

We fall harder every time
We rise up to greet
The occasional joy

We are tortured prisoners of
The overlord of draught
Bending to his every whim

He carries a sickle colored
Rusty burgundy with
The tainted blood of the innocent

He wears a black hood
And leather pants
With chains running down his arms

He reeks of could-have-been’s
And despairing thoughts
And his face is that of an angel.

We love him here
We cannot live without him

We hate him here
We cannot bear to look at him

Vials of our blood are
Carried around with him

He breaks it on us
Glass shards shattering his worn hands
When we fall out of time

And we are smothered in our own blood and dirt.

Don’t watch us
Don’t weep for us
We don’t love you
We never did

Leave us alone with our black angel
And simply pass us by

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Poem Edited: Wednesday, November 30, 2011


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