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  • angel of the dead

    2 Jan 2002

    on silver frosted wings she flew
    in search of truths both old and new
    among the stars she spread her wings
    and soared on dreams of many things
    on dreams of love vast as the skies
    on dreams of guilt that never dies
    on dreams that bring a razor near
    on dreams that pacify all fear

    with whispy flowing silver hair
    and alabaster eyes that stare
    into the souls of all those lost
    within the unforgiving frost
    the ears were pointed at the tips,
    with small but perfect pouty lips
    she spoke to them in many tongues
    hoping to reach out to some
    with disposition of a dove
    full of kindness warmth and love
    between her tears she softly said
    "i am the angel of the dead"