Angels.

It seems angels have their problems,
some of them fall weak.
Some of them hide all day,
as they collect their sleep.

Wings can be ripped from corpses,
eyeliner smudged and smeared.
Sometimes the angels appear to cry,
and I know that's his biggest fear.

Strength cannot constantly radiate,
and smiles aren't always beaming.
Hate isn't an easy thing,
but love hurts, or so they're screaming.

Some angels protect more than one,
more than one fractured soul.
Like the one I am so dubbed,
I've got so many hearts to hold.

Never could I claim to be,
the slightest bit angelic.
But if it leaves them cheery,
in that title I will relish.