Work Text:
Devolving of grace, Eden’s descendant failed
A smattering of grief across a canvas of confusion and rejection, tied up into a bow of agony along a livewire of an angelic innocence, shattered to pieces
It comes in waves of unbearable agony and suffering, shaking hands and a twisted tongue, and the bearing of teeth down on tongue so hard it bleeds
Lungs straining to breathe, as if stained with soot and charcoal, struggling not to relapse down back into a hole of razor blades and blood and scars on ripped cherub flesh
The aching and yearning for relief, flapping wings, hoping air ripples and falling feathers bring a savior, someone to break these chains
There has yet to be a key found for the lock on these shackles
Trapped in an eclipse of leather bound writing to try and communicate, using ink and keyboards to get thoughts across, but it's never enough
Neverending in my cyclic tide, mood shifting like the moon, ever changing, dependent on a shifting axis of something uncontrollable
Flipping through yellowed pages of a hard backed book to find an answer in a DSM5 or a mental health log, desperate for answers, rabid with need to find what is really wrong with a twisted angel
Silent seraphim slipping back into a cascading pool of darkness and feeling the dirty swallow me whole, pulled into an early grave of the garden, unable to withstand the weight and pressure of humanity that was ‘gifted’ to precious creation
This gift is a burden
Alone, for miles and miles, with no human, no fellow angel, abandoned, no other beating heart to hear my cries for mercy, my wounded spirit crying out, my sobbing soul, and it comes to me that it will always be this way, with my candlelight light life flickering in the echoing nightlife of existence in solitude
Weeping angel in the desecrated garden of eden
Why must I endure?