Non-Erotic PoetryFallen AngelNo storm today,
just a long, dusty,
disappearing country road.
He sighed again.
Sometimes he dared
to wonder, for a spell,
which fate was worse –
the deadly tempest
or this road to nowhere.
He closed his wings.
A decoration, merely,
for jibes and jests to tear.
He felt the end,
the distant nothing
of the endless step.
No storm today.
A narrow, dusty way...
his nightmare never-ending.
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