The Cruel Epitaph of The Fallen Seraph
In the depths of night, where shadows breed,
A tale of darkness and despair we heed,
Of a fallen angel, once adorned with grace,
Now cursed to haunt a desolate, accursed place.
A seraph, once bathed in celestial light,
Fell from heaven, her wings shattered in flight,
For pride had lured her, a forbidden desire,
To kindle the flames of hell's wicked fire.
With raven tresses, ebony as the void,
Her eyes gleamed with secrets forever destroyed,
Innocence tainted, her heart once divine,
Now beats in darkness, a cursed valentine.
She roams through forests, shrouded in gloom,
A specter of doom, an angel consumed,
Her silvery voice, now a haunting wail,
A mournful melody, a desolate tale.
In the moon's pale glow, her presence unfolds,
In chilling winds, her story retold,
Invisible chains, her penance so dire,
To dwell in darkness, to never aspire.
Each night, she weeps, her tears turn to blood,
As she treads through the forest, a tortured soul's flood,
Leaves turn to ash beneath her feet,
The ground trembles, as her curse repeats.
Her wings, now ashen, shrouded in pain,
No longer bear her towards heaven's domain,
They rustle like death's solemn whisper,
A fallen angel, a remorseless kisser.
The stars above weep for the lost seraph,
The moon turns away from this cruel epitaph,
For the fallen angel's tale, a tragic descent,
A heart once pure, now forever rent.
And as the night deepens, her torment lingers,
Amongst the trees and the skeletal fingers,
Of a forest dark, where no light will shine,
In the haunting presence of a fallen divine.
Beware, those who dare to venture near,
The fallen angel's wrath, a chilling fear,
For she yearns to reclaim her lost grace,
To ascend once more, to a heavenly place.
But until that day, she remains in the dark,
A creature of shadows, a spectral mark,
A fallen angel, her spirit confined,
A haunting presence, in the depths of the mind.