Angels

"And we're all under the upper hand. And go mad for a couple grams. And we don't wanna go outside tonight. And in a pipe we fly to the mother land. Or sell love to another man. It's too cold outside for angels to fly."- Ed Sheeran, The A Team

I walked along crowded streets. I walked along this one more than once. I always stand by the third street light. I always say a little prayer to myself hoping that I will never have to do this again, but I'm in too deep. I can't drown my demons...they know how to swim. So I stand under this street light in the same attire from last week with a pocket knife as my only weapon and an all leather jumpsuit with my hair in messy curls and my lips painted blood red...a color I know all too well in a place of sorrow.

I look toward the sky. Waiting for something to sweep me up and drape me in life. Wash away the nights of sins. Incinerate the memories of dark rooms and strange men. Make me innocent again. Clean my impurities away. Send them into the deepest depths of Hell. But I know its too late for that.

As I look at the car in front of me, I know what happens next. He knows what happens next, we all know what happens next. So I get in the car and inside is a girl. She looks seventeen , her eyes a dreamy green, skin deep olive and mark free...at least it used to be. Then I look closer and remember that that girl...is me.

I say my last prayer and hope that an angel with come down and rescue me. But it's too cold outside for angels to fly and it's too late to save me from...me.