You asked why
it’s so hard
for me
to speak up
for myself.

I looked
into your eyes,
took a breath
that swallowed
you whole.

Inside is a girl
asking questions
and looking
for answers
her smile
would never
talk about.

Demons are just FALLEN ANGELS.
They fell
From HEAVEN to HELL,
And unlike angels,
DEMONS have a STORY to tell.

After we die
We all become stories

Stories of our failures
Stories of our glories

After we die
We all become a memory

Memory stored in a treasury
Our wings shall be feathery

After we die
We all become a poem

Earth we will roam
But we shall never return home

After we die
We all become alive

We will all survive
And in the new kingdom we'll thrive

When hopes and dreams
Are soon to come
I rise to face
The morning sun

I could,
send this letter,
but you’d never read it.
Instead,
I will write it,
and sweep it,
beneath the carpet.
Maybe you know,
possibly you don’t,
I could never tell,
even if I wanted.
Why is life,
so unfair,
leaving bitterness,
on my tongue?
I desire,
to know,
the answer.
Love,
Me.