Two years of my life fly by without reason.
Chained to a hate in a cold wicked season.
But through the rain, the storm, and the night,
Comes something I need, a warm tender light.
The Angel of Mercy does greet me warm.
As I kiss her soft lips, it ends the fierce storm.
But in the west there is lightning in the sky,
It has come to corrupt as I begin to cry.
She whispers "It will be fine" as I hold her tight.
I fear she will acsend back into the warm light. |
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