They call you an angel, yet they do not know what you have done,

They call you an angel, yet they do not see your twisted thoughts wrapping your brain up like barbed wire slowly bleeding away any pleasant memory that may have lurked somewhere behind those fiery eyes,

They call you an angel, yet they do not hear the screams of the tormented conscience trying to escape its prison of hate,

They call you an angel, yet the do not smell the fine hint of salt within your tears as you weep every night regretting the wrongs you have done, wishing you could fix them,

They call you an angel, yet they do not taste the tang of lust for vengeance suspended in the air,

They call you an angel, yet the do not comprehend the overshadowed scowl constantly masking your demons,

They call you an angel, yet they do not sense the violent pounding of your failing heart, the forced breathing of your deprived soul, the ice forming under your feet ready for you to slip into despair,

They call you an angel, yet they do not know the meaning of the phrase, an angel, pure, kind, loving, empathetic, compassionate, I am no angel, I am but the distraught, contorted figure of a once happy child without a care in the world,

They call you an angel yet that child is gone, all that remains is remorse and despair,