At the flaming gates of hell, there lives a trapped angel, skirmishing for freedom.
by Laura Fullerton
The sweet spirit is spellbound in such a deadly wasteland; trying so hard not to become one of them, them being a force so powerful it could bring down anyone or anything.
As I sit here trying not to break, a sudden vibe hits my heart, the angel is not an angel at all, the angel is in fact somebody that I met quite some years ago, while sitting under a tree, out on the riverbank.
I couldn’t make out whom this person or spirit was, for my eyes fall weak and I become blind, I open my mouth and try to communicate, hoping I can divulge this spirit that is trying so hard to send this message to me. Why can’t I hear you? Why can’t I see you? I can feel you all around me; I feel your power and your sorrow.
Oh, I want to help you be free! If only I was there to help you fight for justice, fight for what is right and reveal the truth…