Angel
I remember writing this way back in 1996 at the back of my sketch pad's front cover. I was still in university, and was fully preoccupied with my studies and my part-time work. I had just finished this troubling illustration when this sad song I call "Angel" struck me suddenly, igniting me instantaneously that I just started writing with my red drawing pen as though possessed.
An angel lies in the corner.
His wings lifeless, his expression somber;
With eyes that see nothing,
They stare coldly at the sun.
Had he lived, he could have grown...
But now it is done.
Had he wanted to dream?
Had he wanted to fly?
Of what use is to question
If his fate is to die?
Grieve not.
It is the world's desire.
His fate had betrayed him;
It consumed him like fire.
An angel lying in the corner
Is all there is.
Young as he is
He had to leave,
And give death his precious kiss.
His wings lifeless, his expression somber;
With eyes that see nothing,
They stare coldly at the sun.
Had he lived, he could have grown...
But now it is done.
Had he wanted to dream?
Had he wanted to fly?
Of what use is to question
If his fate is to die?
Grieve not.
It is the world's desire.
His fate had betrayed him;
It consumed him like fire.
An angel lying in the corner
Is all there is.
Young as he is
He had to leave,
And give death his precious kiss.
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