Trapped In Husk Of A White Crow

So falleth the chalice of dawn,
thralls of flame hellborn
vultures of myriad crowns
claimed her as their own
Higher and higher she rose,
clouds of blessed to breach
Seventh heaven to reach
if faith could last one breeze

No blame did reach her opaque shade
Nefalim to machinate what pride and hate dare to unleash,
thou curious the spirit was still bereaved,
for what lust mould as silver wings
diadem cursed as hex ravening, nemesis to purge
...Fly away

Carnal shades caught winds, steel to cleave what dawn brings
Bezonian fire in her eyes, ascending towards empyrean skies
Wounded skies, libertine, on feathers this blood shall crust
Fear of lies to mesmerize, she soars with wings of rust