Needless Things: Neon Angels Rising

They rise with wings of blinding flame, no mercy dwelling in their name. Their halos crack, their voices sing, a hymn that strips the soul from skin.

Their eyes are prisms, sharp with light, they turn the day into the night. Each feather hums, a phosphor blade, a weapon from the void they made.

No gentle guardians of the skies, but hunters cloaked in bright disguise. The faithful bow, the fearful pray, yet none escape their searing ray.

For beauty hides a dreadful face, salvation burns the human race. In neon fire the heavens break, and all shall fall in their awake.

So when they rise, beware the glow, the truth no mortal dares to know: these angels shine, yet bring the end, in neon terror they descend. NNN