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Angel of Disgrace


                                                               I wish my eyes were shut. Then I’d have no fears.
                                                                    Go through life, with no hate or tears.
                                                                     Or if I were numb, I’d feel no pain.
                                                              Never drowning in shadows. Or soaking in shame.




                                                             Maybe if I were an angel, I'd feel good way to much.
                                                                  I wouldn’t be scared, of loves sweet touch.
                                                                   Kissing me softly, with one deep breath.
                                                                    Sweeping into eternity with the rest.


                                                              I wish I weren’t so alone. Everybody’s something.
                                                                      An object. I just want to go home.
                                                                Nobody to talk to, they’re all cloned and fake.
                                                                           And then there is me.
                                                                               Easy to break.

                                                                      They think I stand on a pedestal.
                                                                         Perfect picture in a frame.
                                                                             There is more to it.
                                                                    Underneath the mask, there is shame.


                                                                        Horrible things said and done.
                                                                           But nobody will listen.
                                                                              To them it’s fun.


                                                                   I hold on to my anger. Locked in a box.
                                                                 Chains all around it, and attached are locks.
                                                                   I wish there was a key. To let it all out.
                                                                           And I would be set free.


                                                                          But instead it builds up.
                                                                       Exploding is bound to happen.
                                                                              Without a doubt.


                                                                   Sometimes I want to scream with no end,
                                                                       so that it feels like life escapes.
                                                                           Then I’d shut my eyes.


                                                                    And remember the angel of disgrace.


                                                                               This is not me.
                                                                         I know I am saved by grace.
                                                                                                             L.L.
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