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The truth unvailed

par Ancient
An innocent little girl,
Hungry for wisdom,
But she searches in places so unsafe,
Unaware, and uncautious

A dark and rainy, Sunday afternoon
At the misty field, over the hill,
She´s walking alone, on her own little paths,
Knowing nothing of what this day will bring

As she is standing by the pond,
Her eyes catch a glimpse
Of a shiny, white shape

Heart beating faster now, as she approaches the form
Nervous but helplessly drawn,
To see what´s before her eyes

As she´s coming closer, she´s struck with fear
Before her feet, lies an angel, bleeding!

Her wings torn, asunder,
Like a helpless prey,
Consumed by a vicious beast!

Her figure drenched in blood,
Seeming nearly, human,
As she is lying there,
Like a helpless victim

As she gaze into her eyes,
A voice from beyond enter her mind,
A frightening tale of the final truth,
A tale from the land of the dead.
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