Choir Of Angels

Just something I wrote near the end of 2007. I love angels, and this is just my mind's-eye image of what would happen if they got really pissed one day, and decided to take it out on us.

The Angels sing,
Their voices crashing,
Booming,
Divine Chaos erupting from their lungs,
Their wings black and burnt,
Their halos cracked and splintered,
Arms scarred and bleeding,
Hearts broken and black,
These are the Angels,
The ones to whom we pray,
Nothing is as it was,
Everything is dead,
Corrupted,
In this age and day.

The choir of Angels,
Sing and sing,
They stroke the flames,
Shake the earth,
Rally the winds,
Goodness is gone,
Now only a myth,
Now only we are left,
The dark,
The damaged,
The bruised and the bleeding.
We are left, to destroy what is left,
And enjoy every minute of it.
And in the end,
The best part of all,
The final masterpiece,
Our own destruction,
The purification of the Earth and the Heavens and the Underworld,
Nothing will be left,
And serenity will come.

Reviews

[Mr. Misanthrope]

This is my favourite poem of yours! I find the way the angels are singing to be very artistic, and the way you concluded that destroying ourselves is the only way we can achieve order and serenity is simply beautiful and philosophical in it's own way. Well done!

-Luke :)

[BenightedWhispers]

It could flow a little smoother. For example, "The purification of the Earth and the Heavens and the Underworld" break that in two parts. You also have some run on sentences too. Fantastic job none-the-less though.