Suicidal Angel

Sometimes I want to scream at you,
Begging you to quit,
And other days I cry for you,
Breaking bit by bit.

I write so many poems for you,
Countless notebooks full,
You'll take it to your grave,
Eyes starless and dull.

Voices echo through the cracks,
Rouse you while you're sleeping,
No faces shown for weeks on end,
To free you from this dreaming.

Death is a hope for the beating you,
Nightmares wide awake,
Rivers of torment ruby-red,
Three strokes for your sake.

Dip into lakes of longing,
Keep the cool head low,
Searching dots of daylight,
A missing gold halo.

Blinded by the hope that glimmers,
Like cellophane, shine through,
Coming down, tear past the walls,
Suicidal Angel, where are you?