I dreamed of the angels, born with a single wing,

given life partners, they shared the pleasure.

Flight so beautiful, it made thier hearts sing,

and bonds that surpassed all measure.

One of every million turned out a fraud,

a mutant, born with both wings it was a dud.

One wing lifted high in the grace of god,

the other dipped deep, into the pools of blood.

She, it always was a girl, couldn't see,

yet she lacked the wants, the greed.

Labeled she was, the angel of mercy,

sent to hold the mortals, in thier time of need.

For those to distant, she could only weep,

shaken off or simply disbelieved, by thier pain.

The tears were scarlet, thick and deep,

and so often they fell, it sounded like rain.

Each grief she held as her own,

and sheltered it deep within.

With each sufferance her heart had grown,

though her task wore her so thin.

As I woke, to a pregnant, infected moon,

the echo of silence, breached the night.

A single liquid snap, told me that soon,

once again, every thing would be alright.