Wounding an Angel

Bleeding angel

This is what happens
When anger collides with compassion:
An eddy of rage
Coalesces with a river
Formed from dissonant tears
To compose emotions obfuscate and cacophonous;
In the end, I’m left paralyzed,
Dubious of which step will be my last,
Praying to a god both deaf and mute
That it will be the next.
Try as I might,
I have no one else to blame this purgatory on;
I alone shoulder the responsibility of this suffering
That has extended beyond myself,
Infecting angels I once deemed untouchable;
I can no longer face those crestfallen eyes,
Knowing what carnage I have wrought
In the pursuit of my own desires—
But I am a selfish creature
Baseless, with no regard for others,
As long as my own thirst is quenched.
The price of this gambit
Is paid in an angel’s blood
And not my own,
And for that I weep and apologize,
Screaming contritions that will never be heard,
Aware that no penance will ever reap reconciliation.
Unable to bear the weight of my sins,
And too impuissant to face the devastation they have rendered,
I turn away from the angels—
My only means of salvation—
And give myself up to hell,
Because it’s all I deserve.
Because I’m a coward.

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