Angels' Iniquity: an abstract poem“Tell me your story.”

Firstly, there were pinpricks: 10,000. Everywhere.
And pain,
Pain.
Where does it hurt?
Everywhere.
Outside? No! but here,
In here! She collapses on her knees...
I've collapsed to my knees.

I'm fighting to breathe:
The clocks race toward oblivion; a sad, sad, song
To drown us, yes, drown every one.
Infinite and suffocating, it's snaps the bones inside,
And gently rocks us down before, when hit by the race,
We explode into dust.

What a guise for an end, and
who would lie to one so pious?
I plead, and break, to give myself up
while crying for resolution.

But when,
While having fought so hard,
I find they do not answer?
The Angels I'll damn, surrender to fiends,
And look to Sweet Denial.
And maybe There, the beautiful thing long sought--
Maybe There, it will be found.

So arriving at that place
I will have closure,
And peace will be had from the void.
Solace to closure, and closure from pain.
This is the best of ends.
Uncontainable, unfathomable,
unreasonable:
A sorrowful conclusion, and yet picturesque.

So when the blood-red sun descends,
To stain the clearest and purest among us--
Do not be surprised!
And angels do not answer, so do not call their name.
But give up your salvation
--Your mean, and false salvation--
And trade it for the comfort we may give to one another.“Give me your hand.”