• Her, A goddess of the heavens cast down on my unworthy eyes,
    I the prince of brimstone,
    The heir of unholy,
    Her wing of a soft feathered light that had only been made by the highest rank of angels of the skys and her Slim frosted body lay on stone that she calls a bed,
    That should rather be burned then be blessed with her rest upon it. A navy inked slash cuts through white Perfection on her lovely face and a stud on the bridge of her nose. bleach yellow strands drape over her Shoulders, and icy blue orbs weep crimson drops.