They fly to me
these Angels on
Demon wings.
Used.
Sitting upon my shoulder
whispering sweet
nothings in my ear
my guiding light
inspiration
taking form from
his words
her memories
their lashings
social outcastings.
Amused.
Fantasies become reality
reality becomes words
words become inspiration
inspiration becomes genius
genius becomes insanity
insanity becomes fantasies
within the walls
of my mind
hinderance
set free.
And they refuse
to be excused.
Bemused.
Where does it
come from?
These ideas.
Archeology,
sweeping away the
dust to uncover
a masterpiece
did that really come
from me?
Abused.
Working tirelessly
words flow from
pen almost
effortlessly.
Almost.
Pushing
ever forward
to create
that which
demands
creation
and will stop
at nothing less
than perfection.
Such musings
these Demons on
Angel wings.
Copyright 2004 sweetambrosia
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/3812/35740 on Saturday September 06th, 2008 02:42 PM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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