The Angel and Her Tears

How many tears fall until this angel loses her smile?
She's hurting all the more but smiling all the while.
This mask she wears entices everyone she meets.
Her pink lips are soft and twist upward so sweet.

But how many days until she loses her wings?
Until she find no more cherished lyrics to sing.
She hums at least now with her gloomy grin.
If she questions not herself, it counts not as a sin.

Sometimes she hides from her own reflection.
To draw to her illness less of her attention.
Turning her back and feathered wings spreading,
Continuing her path, with false hope, dreading.

Beauty's angel finds peace in everyone else.
Forgetting her trouble, forgetting herself.
When this is done, the world seems more complete.
And the call of heavens gates are easier to believe.

But she has to wait to hear those cheery bells.
And as her smile falters she ponders Hell.
The fiery domain where sins are spoken for.
Is deception sinful? Or is sadness more?

The days grow tired as do her pink lips.
Sick of the twisting into unwanted bliss.
An angel who never loses her grace.
An angel, who never wanted her grace.

And how do these questions spin in her mind?
After stressful day passes and she tries to unwind.
Angel feels guilty that she is full of deception.
Her eyes soulless amongst her reflection.

This angel laughs and bellows and chimes.
She whistles and sings and speaks in a rhyme.
Her voice does it sooth and ease and relax.
But her joy is a front, growing with cracks.

The lovely sweet angel, with hair so fine.
Beautifully soft, draped and divine.
She brushes it through with her fingertips.
With that soft smile plaguing her lips.

How can one who sees the light in the dark,
Have hope for another but lose her own spark?
This angel begins to trim her fine hair.
It falls to the floor, and upon it she stares.

The locks of scarlet, garnet and ruby.
No longer adjacent to her blushing red cheeks.
For once there is some truth to her smile
As she stares at her head and then to the pile.

Slowly the angel folds out her white wings.
She admires them quickly before starting to sing.
Then with blade in hand and the break of a note.
The feathers are painted with a gloss red coat.

The blade is pierced into one side of her back
Stuck in her wing, so she pulls and it cracks.
The two feathered beauties either side of pale skin
Seem nothing but a mutation, the seem like sin.

They will not come off when she tries to remove.
They bleed out on feathers and she loses her tune.
She hacks and rips and pulls with all her might.
Ripping out the feathers now turning red from white.

Finally this angel redraws from attempt.
With wings both shattered and broken and bent.
Bleeding and red, they've been fully defiled.
Yet somehow now she has reason to smile.

So angel sits proud in room that's a mess.
With feathers and hair gone, and rips in her dress.
Perky and happy, and laughing with cheer.
Oh angel who hid is now something to fear.