I often dream of gruesome things:
A sliced up angel with bloody wings.
I look in the mirror at the face staring back,
A broken and empty shell of what I lack,
An angel not worthy of love nore hate,
This is what shall always be my fate.
The feathers of beauty withered and burnt away,
And yet there are those who still wish to stay,
And listen at the rotting corpse's plea,
To please move on and forget about me,
Yet one angel refuses to leave,
And cries to the corpse as they grieve,
Why do you not see what I see in you,
A beautiful radiance which shines through,
No matter what you choose to be,
You always know that you have me,
The wind blows softly and full of grace,
As the griever slowly brings a smile to his face,
I see him standing over who I used to be,
And walk over to him now the real me,
I pull him in and kiss his lips telling him it all,
And how I am sorry that he watched my fall,
I am here thanks to those like him who stay,
And I wish I could thank him in every way,
He finishes the kiss and begins to proclaim,
That to him I am the exact same,
He knows me better than I know myself,
And knows of my mental health,
Yet is strict when he needs to be,
But still the one who is most kind to me.
I smile and blush pulling him into a hug,
And after awhile I pull him closer with a forceful tug,
As I stop the tears streaming down my face,
And wake up from this nightmarish place,
I turn over and send a message to you know who,
Simply saying, "I love you."
YOU ARE READING
Depressing poetry for lost souls
PoetryThis is a collection of my own original poems, most are depressing or dark. Most have hidden meaning. Hope you like if not, then who cares, this is how a depressed person vents.
