by Nick Gisburne
The tainted angel spurns the sacred light
She curses, spitting, screaming at the Sun
Descending on the righteous with her spite
Her will, her fury, vengeance, shall be done
She hides the children men have tried to break
Their faces scarred by secrecy and sin
But theirs is not a torment she can take
The sickness lingers, festering within
The seams around their souls were picked apart
Defiled with soot and ashes, dirt and dust
The blameless burn, and yet each beating heart
Betrays the names of those who broke its trust
The tainted angel finds them, one by one
And though they beg for mercy, there is none
