I’m the Angel of Death.
My angle gives breadth to my capacity of stealth.
Holy Father’s number 2.
Even the Angel of War wants to be you know who.
I’m golden too.
A butterfly equation sends my mind to settle to a known station.
Wings encircling tornadoes, my ovation.
I hold tight as GOD beckons me to “Bring me my wings!” from fallen things.
I am valued above materials.
A shepherd of Earth, I finally know my worth.
But I remain a humble woman of course.
His love conceals my hurt.
An angel of valor who upholds GOD’s standards.
by Jerriè McGill
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