Archangel with a Gun

Angel in the valley of death,

foggy street lights

and the sun that has made its bed.

Walking along with red coat velvet,

no intention for danger.

Grayscale lenses.

Precious fists surrounded with roses,

just in case she is angered.

Hair flows like bokeh on city lights,

laced tights hug around her inner thighs.

Wings shine silver white.

A bloom garden underneath her waist,

theres no time to wait.

A hand over her mouth and an arm on her waist.

She's got a handgun in her face

and another on her pussy.

She cant run only her heart rate

and he’s being extremely pushy.

Petals fall

and there goes her fate.

Red thorn roses, mutilate.

*gun pops*

A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night.