Sitting in a pile of ashes,

Clad only in my scars,

A rusted halo lies nearby,

Bleeding stubs of bone and feather where they chopped away my wings,

A fallen, burnt angel,

I must rise from the ashes like a phoenix,

A born-again suicidal,

Heaven was never for me,

I pick at the stitches where they slit my throat,

The thread in the skin feels unreal,

I can taste smoke in my mouth,

I can feel sin like a lump of metal in my heart,


The End

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