Poem -

Wings

Flying.

I was flying.

Wings that spread for miles.

But instead of white,

they were black.

I was not a God's helper.

Instead, I was a fallen angel.

Falling.

I was falling.

Wings folded, curled upward.

I could not stop.

Death.

Death can do what it wants with me.

Raised.

My arms raised,

eyes closed,

embracing the darkness.

Embracing death.

Light.

Light shone through

closed eyelids.

Cutting darkkness from me.

Opened eyes,

an angel.

Flying.

The angel was flying.

Powerful hands outstretched,

reaching for my own.

White,

wings white like pure light.

Afraid.

"I'm afraid,

afraid of the blackness."

A smile.

A smile that shone brighter

than a thousand stars,

touched his lips.

Worry.

"Do not fear,

fear not even the blackness.

Wings,

I have wings to save you.

I shall save you,

to love,

to cherish.

To keep you away

from that you fear."

Saving.

I took the promising hand,

to be saved.

Saved.

I wanted to be saved,

though I embraced the darkness.

Death.

Sadness.

Saved is my desire.

Flying.

I flew again,

wings that spread for miles.

But instead of black,

they were white.

For I am God's helper,

I am saved.

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