Burned In Your Rage Desire

The agonizing scrunches are what makes you more like patterned trouble to me. But it is your mortal frailties that had gotten me to deliver a sin into a cotton candied home; as your growth is the withering of my tunes, but I could not care less. As long as your profound glow is giving me a reason to burn.

Perhaps, this is how you possess the angelic features.
The Folklore #2