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the nemesis of Nemesis
the angel's past is grounded with chains of tested steel
in a desert of intolerance and suicide. she stands solemnly,
eyelashes drooping towards the broken mud at her feet,
wings bloodied and torn by the gryphon's sharp talons.
the distant memory's fog swirls around her chokingly -
a dim procession moves towards a funeral without tears,
spectators in a vague uncaring gray, pondering whether
the faceless black sentinels had yet been paid sufficiently.
the victim sits painlessly in the cold wooden chair
centered in the kitchen of the abandoned winter cabin,
a ghost of a rope hanging ever so silent and still above...
the jagged swirl of a twisted ethereal voice touches her...
at last her mind's torture is relieved in a shivering wave,
and she once again has a choice to fly above cursed words.
but her memory is a chain which pulls her back, forcing her
to stare alone at a past which she cannot escape.