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Aya-Death Angel
Mostly poetry, no real deep thought. Just a place for momentary bursts of creativity.
Listen, listen, can you hear them speaking, whispering, crying?
Please don't run to them, they won't live, even though you're trying.
Forget them, forget their cries, their pleading words,
Listen to the rain, lay down your swords.
There's nothing you can do, nothing you can say,
They won't be able to gasp the breath to pray
To their God, the one who doesn't exist,
He with his Fallen List.
We are written there, you and I,
The Fallen ones are doomed to die.
But we won't die, because we're stronger, better,
Though they shackle us, put us in fetters,
We'll defeat them. That's why they mourn their lives,
They wish they'd Fallen and taken the dive.
Stupid fools, wishing to join us, hoping to kill,
But it's their blood we'll spill.
They won't live to see another day,
They'll drench us in their blood spray.
Bloody bath,
Demonic wrath,
You pushed us too far,
We won't leave a scar.
Poor sweet innocent things,
Crying while your master sings,
Touch a wing, a bone, some blood,
Watch your bodies be churned into the mud.





 
 
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