An Angel with a Black Guitar

An Angel with a black guitar

Starts to reawake my soul

Calls back the dreams that wondered far

And maybe starts to make me whole

Is her voice a virgin Sacrifice

To still the dragons who haunt my pen?

or a narcotic that feels so nice

but leads to a darker dragon's den?

The truth is that now I simply don't care

Because in this moment I feel so clean

and so brave that I simply cannot Scare;

Not by a dragon no matter how mean

But what will I do when the Angel's song

Is no longer there to dream upon?

Will I arise astride my inky steed

And ride my pen to sate a greater need

Or will I just sit on this chair and drink

And smile as her song reminds me of “good?”

Will I smile slightly and start to think

That this is how I would be if I could?

For I know my dragons can’t be slain

Without also killing bits of me

But for now their fire brings me no pain

As they sway to beats of reverie

In this dark cave I know so well

Where my dragon torturers are

I gain a glimpse from darkest hell:

An Angel with a black guitar.