Goddess left in the dark

Such a dying cry.
No one can hear her screams over his grim smile.
She sang such a beautiful lullaby of grace,
but now wings torn I'll never see her fly.

He has laid her destiny to six feet between damnation and a forever war of lost honor.
Which is the after-life and which is the present is yet to be known.
But bloodshed is always the constant.

A winter-bound lotus, of only 16,
Prays love will come her way,
Yet in the mist of sweet terror a destiny was fulfilled, as a scared angel's love became a whisper of never heard bliss.