Angel
I had a friend who was an Angel,
birhgt shining halo, sparkling white wings, an a cross that liked to dangle.
He was kind of weird, personality all mangled, but I understood, because like him we're all tangled.
Intwined with perseption, false hope, and ressurection.
Everyone isn't perfect once you mess with perfection
Every answer isn't wrong, it's just the way you do correction.
Yes everyone shows love, it's just the way they show affection.
This poem is about:
Our world