I should've seent this coming.
My final, utterless downfall
An angel sputtering helplessly down
Unaided by his wings as they burn
The final remnants of something great

This is how I feel as a poet
While others create mastgerpieces
Limited only by imagination
I spiral out of control
And finally run out of ink

Here I lay, discarded by both..
The light fears my words...
While darkness turns a blind eye
I won't beg for favors...
I'll just ask for a simple exit