he was an
angel sculpted from
pitted granite
carved clutching
his still heart
in one clawed
malformed hand
the birds flew
to pluck at the
fibrous muscle
streaks of rust
pooled on the ground

rigorously locked
in a perpetual
pained scowl
no tears leaking
from his vacant gaze
as the acid rain
turns his visage
a moribund gray

long forgotten by
the gnarled hands
of his creator
he stands penitent
overlooking an
overgrown cemetery
pecked at by the birds
his agonized existence
ignored by all of the
restless dead clawing
beneath his feet
as the elements
slowly erode his form
leaving nothing more
than a beating heart
in a half chisled fist


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