Poem About An Angel

No one to speak to of these things. No one can escape their own mind. Frustration builds so easily. Facing the Black with dark thoughts. Bleeding into the day, he finds a way. His favorite pass time is killing him again. The chains grow heavier with the days. He struggles to raise his head. Looking down he hears the sound. The voices call to him from underground. His arms out stretched, with no-one to embrace. He feels the cold Earth upon his face. You will feel it, when you are dead. The weight of every tear shed. Here, there is no pain.