Bits of Poetry

The Weeping Angel

I can't breathe.

I'm drowning, falling, flying, what?

These sobs are choking me.

Let me die.

No one loves me.

Nobody cares.

I could kill myself right now.

No one would notice.

Not until they found my cold, lifeless body.

The tears don't come anymore.

I've cried them all dry.

So young to be suffering so greatly.

Why do they hate me so much?

Why are they so cruel in words and actions?

What have I ever done to them?

I don't know how much more I can take.

The roof used to be my favorite place.

Somewhere I could be free and be myself,

But they've ruined that, as well.

Now, whenever I'm up there, looking out and down,

I have to stop myself from following my impulses and jumping.

But would that really be so bad?

One little step, and I could truly be free.

Free from pain, suffering, cruelty, humanity.

I want to be away from it all.

People always told me I was an angel,

At least, before they also turned on me for being a freak.

I'm a true weeping angel.

One blink, and I'm gone.

Angels can fly, so why shouldn't I?