An angel fell
for a human,
with sad eyes,
the way the sky
seemed to look
before the rain,
the way the clouds
darkened and cast
shadows on the ground.
He fell for her
simple beauty and the way,
she smiled at the world
from the mirrors in the sky.
He yearned to be with her,
so the angel
for his love, ripped off
his wings and
offered his soul
to the devil,
to become human.
The devil was
a cunning joker,
he gave the angel
pain that lasted days,
days that were
fifteen years each
in the world of man.
But the person he
loved was a veiled bride,
kissed by death,
a black soul, and
had aged as the years passed,
when he writhed in agony,
to become a man.
She had loved,
and had married,
and bore children,
and had grown old,
and had died.
And had not come to know him.
And had not come to love him,
when he appeared screaming
in her dreams.
They say, they say that
the angel turned human,
still walks along the roads
of life, changing bodies,
and memories,
and lives,
looking for the soul
of the girl he loves.
He has yet to find her.
Graffitied 