Angels plight

I choke on my own blood, manifested by the false gases.Those that
were to bring me peace now bring me pain and
I feel myself...far away from here..in another place where only loners
play...but to you I maintain that same humane structure as I overshadow
my plight with the routine movement of my bones.

Even in loneliness I do not shatter my tears and let my pain roam...but
try... with the little strenghth that have left to keep myself from
weeping. I rot on the jelousies, and ambitions that i couldnt fulfill.
I yearn for better moments,though my eyes are bleak and empty beyond my
soul...i try my best to look to the sky.

I find a lot more freedom without those barriers of expectations that I
had to face before.

Freedom in a hell...what irony.

Revenge and hate take second place...but they are always there, and
they free me with the realisation that I am worth saving that I deserve
more than what you could ever have given. These thoughts become
healthy,in the small amount that they exist. In these conditions its
better not to let anything become a necessity.

Slowly this hell turns into a haven for my low Lifesource.

You see me now and you call me an angel for never have had expressed
what I really felt.

This little angel found a little haven...where only angels play and all
the angels pain is tranformed into a part of the hell or angels
plight.

For L
I am not an angel.