Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell;
Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,
Yet grace must still look so.
Oh, weak pathetic fools, I am not your angel anymore. I am a demon of my own design, king over all that is dark and unloved. From the coldest wellsprings of abandoned faith, I come. In the darkest hours of the night, I am there.
I am the A N G E L people will not acknowledge, I am the creature that does not exist. Even in your darkest nightmares you dared not believe in me. But I am here and I don't feel like leaving.