....Its like I was staring into the face of an angel, though only the cement and decayed textures would show. The beauty giving me inspiration, yet knowing deep down inside the angel only lay the distortions of a monster. Like the cupid statue with its arrow and bow; like the crown and gown it wore...i was only captivated by its grace. though i noticed the angel wasn't real...i was only captivated, but not touched. for i couldn't really bare the arrow in which stood still, i was only too afraid to slip into the darkness and let an angel of only decay rescue me...rescue me from my only hope...let a cupid bend her bow, let me tremble, let there be no flying arrows. constant actions of only self-love, all i had was self-love and the cupid,the angel, the hero, was all i only had. but the statue was dedicated to none other than,...self-love...look at the graceful angel, as it smiles, and arches its glorifying wings, look at the angel, look at it laugh, look at it mocking me,...throw an arrow, bend your bow, for now its the birth of my statue of hope...the beggining of my ending...look at it, so pretty when it smiles...look at the

angel...gargoyle