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.