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The angel sits looking down on the world in her high place. Not a care. Not a worry. She is innocent. Born innocent. Made innocent. Marked innocent. But her wings cannot cover her deepest lie. The scars never heal. The marks never dissapear. A corpse always rots. She lies with her wings to world. She helps all and holds all with her reigning glow. It stains her...like a bad lie. No one can tell she's not an angel. She plays the part well. She sings to fit in. She watches to hide her blame. She points and saves to feel redeemed. Covering her mistakes, her marks, behind that mask of glitter and make-up any face is perfect. Maybe even hers. Flawless. No...not flawless...flawed with a mask. A facade with a price. Lies with decit. Empty with wings...Pull my Halo down.