The Need to Be

Angels walk this land on foot,
And demons run among them.
Mere mortals fill in the gaps,
Shades of gray within their hearts.

She wears the wings so cautiously,
It turns black upon her fingers.
Her vacant shell is but an pretense,
The actions but a complex mask.

The wickedness runs strong and deep,
Carefully hidden within the center.
The heart is hollow, the soul is none,
And smiles are as empty as mourning sky.

The stolen wings begin to fade,
Frayed by their misuse.
And as they die, truth is revealed
And image will reflect the core.

Demons can't hide so very long
And she will cry for what she is.

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