A Crying Angel No More

I almost took a knife to my wrist once, a mistake.
It was in the end of winter, the world was chilled
and my heart, that vile little thing, was even colder.
With so much pain in my chest, I managed to live.
As the world seemed to strike up arms against me,
I slapped a smile on my face and said all was well.
Inside I was dying, I was lying, I was crying,
but nobody was the wiser, my mask was all but perfect.
I perfected the act of an invisible girl, a wallflower.
Like a disease the sadness followed me, my private plague.
Every night I would sit in the cold, up high toward the sky,
and I would accuse the clouds for who they housed—
Gods in the sky, they must have cursed me, hated me.
I was like an angel with broken wings, no way to fly
and no purpose to live; what is an angel without wings?
A sorry excuse for a human being, using up precious air.
This was me, how appalling, oh but two short years ago.
I was saved by someone who was just as lost as me.
Like a swooping guardian angel, he took me from that cliff.
His black wings, seen as a burden, were beautiful to me.
A broken halo maybe, a broken heart too, a warrior with
so much strength on the outside his inside was hidden.
I saw you up close, looked into your soul, saw the sad
kindness in your eyes and all the amazing wonder.
I see no evil, no demon, no monstrous traits, just a
big heart that has no need to be ripped out and impaled.
You handed me a knife, asking me to harm you, to make you
bleed, to punish you for all wrong you think you’ve caused.
But I tossed it aside, I refuse to harm you, all I want is to heal you.
You will always be my angel, fallen or not, you will be my guardian.
Whether you believe in yourself or not, I will always believe in you.
I wouldn’t be writing these words, this thanks if it hadn’t been for
the kind words of a stranger, the kind words that you took the time
to write to me, you helped me—a lost soul—from the bottom of my
patched and scared heart, I thank you my black winged guardian.