Of Morality Falls

Hand it over. There's a demon child angel in my head. Her wings so glorious. Feathers ruffled as she hits the ground in desperation. Nowhere left to look but up for the sun to burn out her eyes. And take her feathers now. One wing of beauty, another of flesh and sinew. Her face is broken. Duality.

There's a man on his knees with his back to me. A fire licks the clouds of devastation above his city. Cinder blocks smoking and in pieces. People crowding around the periphery of the picture asking, "Why, God?" He just cries and rips his clothing. Shreds himself down to nothing. Job in Despair.

A man-child in the corner. The cigratte smoke in the sneaking shape of a serpent dragon. His hair disheveled. Dreams all in pieces on the hard wood floor. He just tells himself the same. That he's somebody's failure. Is he yet his own? Contemplation.

Two children running through a pasture. Slip and fall. One's knife goes in the other. A man stands in the distance with a hypodermic needle. The children struggle against gravity. Walking with the weakened one braced against the body of his brother. The knife still in his side pulling a balancing act. They'll make it to the doctor, but will the doctor make it to the effort? Cogs in the Machine.

A man standing in a cleared field. Woods around. There's a myth that in these woods you can find salvation. Or at least the greatest scare of your life. 'JD' simply hadn't quite done it. Neither had highschool upstanding role models. He looks up to nothing, to the night sky. Will he find God floating there tonight? Seeking Any Purpose.