Cupid smiled as he drew back his bow, he felt the weight of the string on his fingers and a stirring in his soul. He wept for the target for which his arrow was intended, for he knew that once it pierced their heart that it could not be mended. So with a sigh he let it go, and the arrow it did fly, and as the arrow pierced his chest, an angel caught his eye. With a broken halo and tattered wings the angel did pretend, to love his empty, hollow soul, and always be his friend, but soon the angel bared her teeth and devoured this man’s heart, and to her hell she did return to brag about her art. Now alone, the broken man, in silence he did scream “oh god please wake me up from this horrid dream”, but his ears were only met with silence, for his god did not reply. So he picked up his pen and wrote this poem as his soul did slowly die. Cupid put his bow away, his work here was now done, he quietly whispered to himself “next time I’ll shoot two, instead of one.
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