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In Throes of Regression

By BlindSamurai, Bridgewater, NJ

Startling, confusing reality,
Watching this dying Angel,
Spreading her wings,
Reluctantly.

Lit Candles,
Only serve to darken this scene.
Paintings on the wall meld into blurs,
A universe of moving color,
Melds with the life outside.
Black and white as time passes,
They all turn and fade to stone.
Turning back to the death of the inside

Lighting the final candle…

Diminishing light in a heavenly glow,
A demon rises out from the pale shadow.

The Devil devours her wings,

High above the spiraling sphere.

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