The Stars are Candles

Hurt sitting by the windowpane, sorrow fills my soul in the rain.

Girl with demon eyes and angel wings, she calls me down just to lift me up.

She touches me with porcelain, digs deep to rip away my sin. To cleans. 

If the sky is an alter then the stars are candles, reminding me of my sins.

No matter how hard we wash, they're there, to beat us down again, to chain us round and bend.

From dust we rose and to dust shall we go, to the black or the endless sea.

All for the thrill of the story. Again and again, till the end, amen.

Author's Note

Booooooooop

Reviews

[Phill Oz O'fee]

I like your poetic approach in highlighting the fact: no matter how much we clean and paint our shell, we can never bleach away transgressions written on the soul. Watching over us the messenger, recording all in the book of life! Great write …

[Wordless_Prism]

why thank you. :)