Helpless Angels

Out into the rusted winds; I behold,

Inviting adornment neatly draped with gold,

Lovingly embraced too close to the heart,

Endearingly kissed as an amorous art;

Lo! Hither thou stand masquerading solemnness,

Maundering softly a voice; depicting calmness,

Yet those angels illuminating thy garth,

Be pressed to the daggers of this earth,

How brute! How brute is thy countenance, 

Thou deserve no trial! No second chance:

To thine be bestowed ever again.

They're sublime angels; daughters with brains,

Deserve they books; noetic scripts to learn,

They shall a day; a million fortunes earn,

And yield to thy feet pounds of tinselled destiny,

With every empyreal smile sans a nettled mutiny.

Let them grow to the skies of unfettered light,

From the sun's eternal glimpse; let them gain insight.

Shackles thou break to a free life sans redundant thrall,

They ain't fragile but human silhouettes of a divine doll.