Disclaimer: I am not Neil Gaiman or Terry Pratchett, nor am I affiliated with them in any way; I didn't write one of the most mind-blowing books ever; slash isn't canon; I'm making no money with this fic, although I did get ten bucks for babysitting today. ButI digress. Everybody loves reviewers; flames will cook my shish kabobs (which is not dirty slang, thatnk you very much, but a dish of skewered meat and vegetables) .

Summary: It's Good Omens slash non-rhyming angsty poetry. Kill me now before I do it myself.

"This Cannot Go On"

Against the cold

Frostbitten bars

Of a Hellish prison

A black haired child weeps.

The crystal tears

Freeze on his pale cheeks.

Nobody asks who he is

Or what he's done.

Everybody knows.

Surrounded by light

A golden boy

Stares vacantly, not realizing

He is locked away

From darkness and himself

In holiness, purity, and marble.

Nobody asks about him

Or why he is alone.

Everybody knows.

Cloaked in fiery majesty

Satan on his throne

Knows that This

Cannot go on.

Veiled in radiant glory

God in his Heaven

Knows that This

Cannot be allowed.

Turn back the clock, but

The emptiness remains.

Close your eyes, but

Love will stay the same.

Angels and demons

Fight in the burning sky.

In the gray spaces

Between Black and White

Two lovers hold each other;

Two pairs of wings,

Each around the other,

Black and white,

In ecstasy entwining.

They cry, who can say "Fallen"?

Who can claim Right or Wrong?

Why is love now forbidden?

They ask, why can This not go on?

Turn back the page;

A black-haired child weeps.

A golden boy is put away

In storage. Why do They

Hide away the evidence?

Why can This not go on?