There laid upon the dewy grass
An angel you could find upon stained glass.
Under the stars in presence of rain,
Enjoying the pleasure of humanities pain.
Her wings were so beautifully torn,
And no white gown to longer adorn.
Gone was her blinding glow,
And gone was the chain of her halo.
She felt her blood escape her skin,
Craving more with a drawing pin.
Letting out a breath with the sting,
Overwhelmed by a sense of calming.
Although death is grasping her heart,
And she lays alone in the dark,
This fleeting moment of vulnerability
was her first taste of tranquillity.