Angel Of The Damned Poem by Janelle Morehart

Black roses grow
At the edge of my mind
Blood red rain falls down
Upon my head
Black feathers incase me
Lift me to new heights
Soaring through the minds
Of many
Damned and Guilty
Innocent and Caring
Everything burns at my touch
But yet the roses always grow
The darkest of blacks
The most simplest of colors
Yet always the most dark
I touch the minds of all
I show them sin
Then I turn away
Hoping they want no more
But they always pull me back
Forever in this cycle
I have escorted many
To the depths of Hell
For I am merely an Angel
The Angel of the Damned