The angel sits silent reading the writings of ancient foes Defeated All of the flood blood and agony are gone in a wave of self pity Crying her only escape voices of ones once strong dead and gone In pieces by the river of blood Flowing from the wounds in their hands and feet and sides Water is her quest water to heal water you cannot find but it is there it can only be given if only she would ask it is easily lost refused almost wanting to be in her life if only she had asked It is wonderful it will wash her wounds and make her complete happy in winter perfected in summer but love takes two the angel and it Would she have been true It would have been . . . never leave whatever it is is it it is me
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-chaddy
P.S: I dont get to see you that much why?