She stood above the roof tips looking at the city below. Cars ,the newest invention, drove along the streets. Where horse drawn carriages had once been.
She looked down on all the rich people passing on the streets thinking of how lucky they were.
Then she would glance at the poor in pity. They were the unlucky. They had to suffer for the rich.
Taking in the city she concluded that perhaps it was time.
She glanced back at her glimmering wings. The ones that had scorned her from birth. The ones that gotten her no where in life or in the city. Her unnatural decoration that not even the devil would accept.
Finally she looked strait done from her perch on the church steeple.
She watched as the pope exited the site laughing amoung the rich. Going about his life in ease. While his people suffered and starved.
Then she leaped. Her fall was as graceful as an angles. Her wings flashing with her anger.
Then she crashed. Her wings shattering and her life dimming. Not only hers but the Pope's as well.
She had completed her mission as guardian angel of the poor and the enslaved.
She would end their misery and the wealthys. Now no one could complain about either of them ever again.
She drew her last breath laying in the scattered bits of her glass wings.
-Akina3036
