I am
My own source of suffering
My pain
Comes from my own desire
My fate is
Over-Ruled by my ambition
My hunger
Craves for torment
I am
Evil with a conscience
Did you think I did not exist?
I am
Evil, with a heart
Only to call out bliss
My death
Beautiful, yet tragic
All the more Irrelevant
I affect
But do not exist
Only to those whom have felt my sin
I live
Without cause
I live
Without living
I give only to destroy
I destroy only because I enjoy
A nightmare gone Insane
A virus for your brain
A cancer for your lung
A song not yet sung
A child left untaught
A soul ripped apart
Conviction to a great degree
No mercy, to make mothers bleed
A prayer to bring a christ to his knee
My rage
Is the source of my power
But as graceful as a flower
Death is but a mastered art
In which we all play a part.
A great portrait, a sonnet, or a grand board game.
We, our fathers are the artist of this masterpiece
I am to wonder
Alone with nothing but sorrow to call my own
In this world we call home
IT is mine to roam
In chaos or in peace
To do with it what I please
Labels
Another mark for characteristic
Loss of identity has never been so tragic
What ever happened to the power of a name?
Before my time is done
I will show you son
That my name is Angelus, and you better run...
-Written by Angelus-