Underneath the pools of their bright exterior,
Lies the soul, torn and split.
An angel, a demon.
En caged for a lifetime of battle.
Half against half, brother against brother.
Telling who fights the better battle, if examined closely, is fairly simple.
The pools will be clouded over with a blackening evil,
Like a dreary midnight sky when the demon arises the better.
However when the angel ascends from the battle the stronger form,
The pools will flood with a shining as if heavens above were adorning them
With their golden rays of hope.
Underneath these pools of liquid lies the soul.
Tortured and immortal, yet magnificent and timeless.
For there will always be a battle in the midst.