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Falling Angels, completely hopeless and full of remorse,
Spiraling madly out of course, no forseeable course,
As punishment from their father, the ever so quiet,
For all must be peaceful, no tolerance for those who riot.
The Fallen are filled with heartbreak, wings crumple in pain,
Unwanted by the world, forever an outlet for hate and disdain,
They plummet into a world of empty intentions and dark desires,
Where the different and disliked are burned on the wiches pyres,
To awake in the birthplace of malicious intent,
Where the minds of the natives are twisted and bent,
The Fallen can only weep, standing alone in the rain,
Knowing in their torn souls, there is nothing for them to gain,
What must it feel like, your creator turning the other way?
No purpose or plan, wandering the world alone,
I pity them, because my own life is much the same.
In desperate times, people can't help but panic and pray,
wondering if he heard, or if they left a message at the tone,
If he's no longer listening, we only have ourselves to blame.
The Fallen are the shattered, happiness they can only feign,
For that, In the world we live, they are seen as a stain.
People can fall like angels, only instead from our peers,
We Damned only wish for acceptence, but never succeed,
Falling is what all things avoid, one of our few universal fears,
But no matter who we are, we're all people, we all have to bleed.
The Fallen, who for centuries have been mangled and slain,
All of whom's sorrow will forever be unnoticed and in vain.
