Gabriel

It is all the same,
When love equals hate.
One face with many names,
Thrown together by fate.

With harlequin grace, guile, and guilt,
The silent shadow steals.
And watches as its prey wilts,
At the discovery of passions so surreal.

This foreign fire will never grow cold,
As long as the game gets played.
The Angel, before the soul was sold,
Or dancing with the devil, a decaying crusade.

Taking paths less traveled, forked unto crimson grass,
All the life that slipped through, now at an impasse.