deepundergroundpoetry.com

Angel

She sits softly waiting for something. She breathes lightly hoping for change.

I’ve come to give her meaning. I’ve come to make her move.

Still she sits blinded by her love for flaunting her self pity. She’s been sitting here for hours and contemplating suicide. 

The razor’s in her hand and the scars are to her side. I’ve come to recollect I’ve come to take it back. 

She’s scared and so alone. The razor kisses her skin so softly. 

I guide her through the darkness. I pull her from her self loathing.

I hold her and show her love. I sing a song of better days.

 It sounds a little bit like this.
Written by TrippyScarecrow (David Frank II)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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