The angel.
Surrounding her is pain, loss, and betrayal of others.
None of the things have ever happened to her,
so she stays pure.
Her skin is the first snowfall of winter,
untouched by any creature.
Her cheeks are the soft pink of cherry blossoms,
Before the fruit ever forms.
Her wings are her joy,
Which help her soar throughout her heaven
Her eyes are dark,
For all the hatred she sees with them.
Her lips are red,
For all the wounds she's tried to fix with them.
Her hair is dark,
For all the scarred hands that have tried to tame it.
Yet she stays pure.
She stays to show faith.
She stays to show trust.
She makes you believe in pixie dust.