I'd rip off your wings,
and steal you from heaven.
If I knew you'd stay with me tonight.
Showering me with idealistic compliments.
but we all know my battered and bruised body,
doesn't even begin to compare to your angelic flesh.
Stitching hearts up one insincerity at a time.
Flattering the guilt away into oblivion,
forgiving the damned while humming my fears.
Perhaps, I can masquerade as a saint,
just for a few moments,
so I can be closer to a angel.
© 2007 GrotesqueEuthanasia
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