Angels have pretty faces,
But so does death,
The tempt us constantly with loud insidious whispers,
With eyes so beautiful,
And skin so pale,
They lie within our dreams,
Waiting for us to release them,
From their chained boxes of ivory,
They rest there,
Bound till we release their fury upon the world,
They are the darkness that every person carries within them,
The half people fear…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like this Silver......very ominous. Nice job. Sincerely, Mary