God's artist falls from Heaven,
His wings dripped in the ink that was once holy.
The great sin no angel should ever partake in
Becomes the very temptation that leads the angels to fall.
Draw Satan's name in ink,
Plaster that slander out of curiosity.
Reap the damnation that word possesses,
And you'll find yourself falling...
With nothing but your inked wings to guide you to Hell.
YOU ARE READING
Little Nothings
Poetry***STUNNING COVER by @Repulsify, as commissioned through @InkCommunity 's Artlink Station!*** Things speak to us in different ways. For some, it's a small voice in our minds. For others, it's the things around us, weaving words into succession for s...
