It was once beautiful. Something so pure and innocent that it would take your breath away just to look upon it. It was once perfect. Unblemished and whole, with no flaws to mar it's unity. It once was exalted. Something desireable and precious, that men would murder to attain.

It once was...

Now it is hideous. Filthy and disillusioned and full of broken dreams. Now it is imperfect. Shattered and torn, nothing but flaws, without unity. Now it has fallen. Trampled into the dust by those who had not the love to tread carefully.

This is all that is left. A dead butterfly, a broken wing, a fallen angel. Pure marble stained with the blood of innocents. This is all that is left for us...and it is naught.

-- Angel (keita@my.sanguinus.com), August 28, 2002