My Very Own Darkly Gothic Poem

Losing Faith

Slender beams of moonlight enter
this darkened prison as I kneel,
always silent, always driven,
frozen here,
waiting.

Robed forms wrought in panes of glass loom as
dust dances in the air,
forming an image in my mind,
reaving my shamed soul.

Blood on an angel’s face.

I raise my head, now defying
this uncaring Heaven.

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