Just an angel with bent wings,
one who danced with the devil.
Her halo hidden, her mind set free.
This angel thought she could fly,
her notions were so naive.
Many angels do what’s right,
yet some want to experience what’s wrong.
The slightest taste of adventure,
the edge of danger,
it’s an adrenaline rush within.
She doesn’t know the phrase, “hell of a time.”
She’s never had the experience.
An angel trapped in her aura of luminosity,
she waits to see the dark first hand;
but good angels don’t frolic in the shadows.
Angels know if they play with fire, they’re bound to be burned.
But a little scar doesn’t stand out,
she’s just always aware it’s with her.
Once the line was crossed, she couldn’t leap back.
So why, then, did she make the jump?
The Quill 