Fallen Angel II

 

In twilight's somber dance, she stands,

A fallen angel, cursed by fate,

Her tattered wings of shadowed hue,

Hold secrets of celestial state.

Her raven locks, like midnight's veil,

Caress a face of haunting grace,

A tempest stirs within her eyes,

Where once a starlit sky took place.

She drifts between the dark and light,

A ghostly figure, lost in time,

Her diaphanous gown flickers, sways,

A dance of shadows, so sublime.

The air around her whispers tales,

Of power, resilience, and strife,

Her slender form, both strong and frail,

Bears testament to an endless fight.

In her pale hands, a gleaming sword,

A symbol of her past divine,

A bittersweet reminder, held,

Of battles fought on Heaven's line.

A flicker of hope within her gaze,

A longing for redemption's flame,

Her heart, a battleground of love,

Where darkness wrestles with her shame.

In this ethereal, moody scene,

A tale of grace and sorrow blend,

The female fallen angel weeps,

For shattered dreams and grace to mend.