Fallen Angel

more snippets of a dream I had, also this is among the first of my poetry

Sitting under a tree,
With broken wings,
Crying blood
Is the angel.

Dark and mysterious,
heavenly beautiful,
Her hair hangs
in her face.
She crys and crys,
Makeing a pool around her.
Her wings drip with blood,
Slowly soaking in
as she sits under the tree

Author's Note

creative critisim