Fallen Angel
Lost eyes search for an answer,
searching,
always searching,
seeking for a reason
as to why their mistress must hide.
Her heart heavy with torment,
her soul dying inside
looking for a passage to freedom,
no one else will find.
Her heart pangs painfully with lonliness,
trapped in a crowd,
yet still alone,
she's searching,
always searching,
for something,
anything,
a way to spread her broken wings,
and soar into the endless horizon.
The gleam of the razor blade calls out to her
' I'm here to help, not to hurt ',
tired of the façade she built,
her walls crumble.
She resorts to her true self.
With a slash of her blade
a crimson river begins to flow
as that river flows,
her pain disappears.
The throbbing in her wrist helps numb the pain in her head.
Yet still,
a smile is painted on the face,
of this cracked procelain doll.
In bittersweet happiness,
she apologizes,
' I'm sorry I'm not who you think I am '.
With violent red scars adorning her skin,
her veins a large contrast from her paleness,
like a shooting star glimmering in the sky.
Burden lifted from her heart,
her soul rejuvinated.
She is once again,
her true self;
the fallen angel.
Finally,
She is free.
searching,
always searching,
seeking for a reason
as to why their mistress must hide.
Her heart heavy with torment,
her soul dying inside
looking for a passage to freedom,
no one else will find.
Her heart pangs painfully with lonliness,
trapped in a crowd,
yet still alone,
she's searching,
always searching,
for something,
anything,
a way to spread her broken wings,
and soar into the endless horizon.
The gleam of the razor blade calls out to her
' I'm here to help, not to hurt ',
tired of the façade she built,
her walls crumble.
She resorts to her true self.
With a slash of her blade
a crimson river begins to flow
as that river flows,
her pain disappears.
The throbbing in her wrist helps numb the pain in her head.
Yet still,
a smile is painted on the face,
of this cracked procelain doll.
In bittersweet happiness,
she apologizes,
' I'm sorry I'm not who you think I am '.
With violent red scars adorning her skin,
her veins a large contrast from her paleness,
like a shooting star glimmering in the sky.
Burden lifted from her heart,
her soul rejuvinated.
She is once again,
her true self;
the fallen angel.
Finally,
She is free.